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NOP?*?  CAROLINA 

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SU 


OKI  7W©  VOLOTiS^: 


VOL.  II. 


BOSTON : 

MTJNROE    &   FRANCIS. 


This  series  of  Masia  Edqeworth'b  EARLY  LESSONS 

consists  of 

HARRY  AND  LUCY 1  vol. 

ERANK    1  vol. 

SEQUEL  TO   ERANK     2  vols 

ROSAMOND 2  vols. 

HARRY  AND  LUCY  CONCLUDED 4  vols. 

To  De  had  separately,    as  ahove, — or  all  together,   in 
5  thick  volumes. 


SEQUEL  TO  ROSAMOND. 


TO  PARENTS. 

T>  OSAMOND,  when  we  last  saw  her,  in  the  days  of  the  Black 
Bonnet,  the  India  Cabinet,  and  the  Microscope,  was,  we 
believe,  about  nine  or  ten  years  old.  This  sequel  to  her  history 
comprises  about  three  years,  from  ten  to  thirteen.  Her  biogra- 
pher mentions  this  to  prevent  mistakes,  and  to  insure  the  ad- 
vice, the  entreaty,  that  this  book  may  not  be  read  at  an  earlier 
age. 

The  same  principles  will  here  be  found  as  in  all  the  preceding 
Early  Lessons  ;  but  applied  to  those  new  views  of  character, 
new  thoughts,  feelings,  and  objects,  which  present  themselves 
at  this  time  of  life.  Young  readers  will  still  see  in  Rosa- 
mond's less  childish,  but  ever  fluctuating  mind,  an  image  of 
their  own.  Few  may  have  her  infinite  variety  of  faults,  follies, 
and  foibles  ;  but  some  of  her  youthful  errors  will  probably  fall 
to  the  share  of  each,  and  some  passing  likeness  will  be  continu- 
ally caught  by  the  young,  or  imputed  by  the  old.  May  all,  who 
are  at  any  time  conscious  of  resembling  Rosamond,  or  reproach- 
ed with  being  like  her,  imitate  her  constant  candor,  and  follow 
her  example  in  that  ardent,  active  desire  to  improve,  by  which 
she  was  characterized  in  childhood,  still  more  in  youth,  which 
made  her  the  darling  of  her  own  family,  and  which  will,  we 
hope,  influence  generous  strangers  in  her  favor. 

Though  the  following  little  volume'' is  not  intended  for  young 
children,  yet  it  is  not  here  attempted  to  give  what  is  called  a 
knowledge  of  the  world,  which  ought  not,  cannot  be  given  pre- 
maturely. 

It  is  the  object  of  this  book  to  give  young  people,  in  addition 
to  their  moral  and  religious  principles,  some  knowledge  and 
control  of  their  own  minds  in  seeming  trifles,  and  in  all  those- 

696736 


4  TO   PARENTS. 

lesser  observances  on  which  the  greater  virtues,  often  remotely, 
but  necessarily  depend.  This  knowledge,  and  this  self-com- 
mand, which  cannot  be  given  too  early,  it  is  in  the  power  of  all 
to  attain,  even  before  they  are  called  into  the  active  scenes  of 
life.  Without  this,  all  that  gold  can  purchase  or  fashion  give, 
— all  that  masters,  governesses,  or  parents  can  say  or  do  for 
their  pupils, — will  prove  unavailing  for  their  happiness,  because 
insufficient  for  their  conduct.  But,  with  this  power  over  their 
own  minds,  confirmed  by  habit,  and  by  conviction  of  its  utility 
and  its  necessity,  they  may,  in  after  life,  be  left  securely  to  their 
own  guidance ;  and  thus,  early  lessons  judiciously  given,  will 
prevent  the  necessity  of  late  lectures. 

'  I  have  been  laboring  to  make  myself  useless,'  was  the  saying 
of  an  excellent  writer  on  education.  A  stupid  commentator 
concluded  that  this  must  be  a  mistake,  and,  in  a  note,  added, 
.  for  useless  read  useful. 

M.E. 

January.  1821. 


ROSAMOND. 


PETTY  SCANDAL. 

* 

(  T  HAVE  been  dreaming  of  Anne  Town- 
-L  send,'  said  Rosamond,  one  morning  as 
she  wakened.  '  My  dear  Laura,  you  did  not 
hear  all  the  things  she  was  telling  us  last 
night.  She  certainly  is  the  most  entertaining 
person  in  the  world.' 

'  In  the  world  ! '  repeated  Laura,  with  some- 
what of  an  incredulous  smile,  which  provok- 
ed Rosamond  to  start  up  in  her  bed. 

'  Yes,  indeed,  Laura  ! '  cried  she,  '  without 
any  exaggeration,  Anne  Townsend  is  the 
most  entertaining  person  that  I  ever  knew  in 
the  world ;  and  you  would  have  acknowledg- 
ed it  if  you  had  heard  her  last  night ;  but  you 
never  would  see  my  nods,  and  becks,  and 
signs  to  you  to  come  to  us ;  you  seemed  as  it 
you  would  not  stir  from  your  place  among 
the  wise  ones,  and  there  you  were  all  the 
evening  looking  at  those  prints,  which  you 
have  seen  fifty  times.     How  I  pitied  you  ! ' 

1  Thank  you,'  said  Laura ;  '  but  I  was  not 
at  all  to  be  pitied ;  I  was  very  much  enter- 
tained, listening  to  an  account  which  a  gentle- 
man, who  has  lately  returned  from  Italy,  was 


6  EARLY   LESSONS. 

giving  of  his  visit  to  Pompeii,  that  town  which 
was  buried,  you  know,  under  a  shower  of 
ashes,  and  which  remains  as  perfect — ' 

'  Yes,  yes,'  interrupted  Rosamond,  '  I  read 
an  account  of  it  long  ago ;  and  I  remember  it 
put  me  in  mind  of  the  old  desert  town  in  the 
Arabian  Tales,  where  every  body  was  dead, 
and  all  turned  to  stone !  and  all  silence !  very 
shocking,  and  very  entertaining,  the  first  time 
one  hears  of  it;  but  I've  heard  it  so  often,  I 
like  something  new.' 

'  And  I  heard  something  that  was  quite  new 
to  me  about  Pompeii,'  said  Laura. 

'  Very  likely ;  and  you  can  tell  me  that  an- 
other time,'  interrupted  Rosamond;  'but  I 
must  go  on  now  about  Anne  Townsend  !  and, 
in  the  first  place,  I  may  observe  that  she  nev- 
er tells  of  all  the  grand,  musty  things  one  can 
find  in  books;  but  of  those  little  things,  of 
living  people,  that  are  so  excessively  divert- 
ing.' 

'  What  kind  of  little  things  1 '  said  Laura. 

'  I  cannot  describe  them,'  said  Rosamond ; 
f  but  all  sorts  of  anecdotes  and  stories  of  all 
sorts  of  people,  for  Anne  Townsend  has  seen 
a  vast  deal  of  the  world.' 

'  Anne  Townsend  !  What,  at  thirteen  ? ' 
said  Laura. 

1  Fourteen  at  least,  if  not  fifteen,'  said  Ro- 
samond ;  l  and  she  has  been  going  about  lately 
every  where  with  her  mother ;  she  counted  to 
me  twelve  houses  in  the  country  where  they 
had  been  paying  visits  this  summer ;  and  she 


ROSAMOND.  7 

did  make  me  laugh  so,  by  describing  the  odd 
ways  of  many  of  these  people  ! ' 

1  Of  these  people  who  had  been  so  kind  to 
her,'  said  Laura. 

'  That  is  so  like  you,  Laura,'  cried  Rosa- 
mond ;  '  I  knew  you  would  say  that  2  And  I 
own  I  did  not  think  it  was  quite  right  of  Anne 
Townsend  to  repeat  some  things ;  but  I  am 
sure  she  did  not  mean  to  be  ill-natured.  It 
was  all  to  divert  me,  and  only  for  me,  you 
know.' 

1  But  you  have  not  yet  told  me  any  of  those 
entertaining  things,'  said  Laura. 

'  Because,  though  they  were  excessively  en- 
tertaining at  the  time  when  I  heard  them,' 
said  Rosamond,  '  I  cannot  repeat  them  in  the 
way  Anne  Townsend  told  them.' 

'  Pray  tell  me  some  of  them ;  I  shall  be 
content  with  your  way  of  telling  them,'  said 
Laura. 

1  But  almost  ail  the  anecdotes  were  about 
people  you  do  not  know,  and  I  forget  the 
names,  and  it  is  all  confusion  in  my  head. 
Stay,  I  remember  some  curio  as  things  about 
the  pretty  Misses  Belmont.  My  dear  !  you 
cannot  conceive  how  excessively  poor,  and 
excessively  shabby  they  are.  Anne  Town- 
send  says  that  they  have  only  one  riding 
habit  among  the  three,  that  it  is  the  reason 
that  they  never  ride  more  than  one  at  a  time; 
and  they  never  subscribe  to  raffles,  or  charity 
sermons,  or  charity  balls,  or  any  of  those  sort 
of  things ;    and  I  forget  how  much,  I  mean 


8  EARLY   LESSONS. 

I  forget  how  little  pocket  money  they  have. 
That  is  their  mother's  fault  indeed  ■  but,  as 
Anne  Townsend  says,  avarice  runs  in  the 
blood.' 

Laura  was  going  to  interpose  something  in 
favor  of  the  Misses  Belmont,  but  Rosamond 
ran  on  to  another  anecdote,  and  another,  and 
another,  and  another,  and,  at  every  close,  re- 
peated, '  Anne  Townsend  is  so  entertaining ! 
But,  my  dear  Laura,'  continued  she,  '  what 
name  do  you  think  Anne  Townsend  has 
found  for  old  Mrs.  Cole?  Red-hot  Coal! 
You  must  not  repeat  this.' 

■  No,'  said  Laura,  '  I  should  be  sorry  to 
repeat  it ;  because,  though  Mrs.  Cole  is  per- 
haps a  little  passionate,  mother  says  that  she 
is  a  very  good-natured  woman,  and  very  kind 
to  the  poor  in  our  neighborhood,  in  the  coun- 
try. Do  not  you  recollect  hearing  of  that 
little  orphan  girl,  to  whom  she  is  so  good?' 

i  That  is  all  a  mistake,'  said  Rosamond, 
giving  a  very  significant,  mysterious  nod. 

'  It  cannot  be  all  a  mistake,'  replied  Laura, 
'  because  I  saw,  and  know  some  of  her  kind- 
ness to  that  little  Bessy  Bell.' 

1  No  matter,  my  dear  Laura,  what  you 
saw,'  said  Rosamond,  '  for  I  have  heard  just 
the  contrary  from  the  best  authority.' 

'But,'  said  Laura,  'I  heard  from  Bessy 
Bell  herself  that  Mrs.  Cole  was  as  kind  as 
possible  to  her ;  and  I  loved  the  child  for  the 
affection  and  gratitude  with  which  she  spoke 
of  her  dear  good  old  lady.' 


KOSAMOND.  9 

I  That  is  all  quite  changed  now,'  persisted 
Rosamond,  '  for  Bessy  Bell  hates  her  now. 
Bessy  Bell  was  the  very  person  who  said  so, 
and  who  told  this  to  Anne  Townsend.' 

I I  am  sorry  for  it,'  said  Laura  gravely. 

1  You  would  be  sorry  for  her,'  said  Rosa- 
mond, '  if  you  knew  but  all.  Mrs.  Cole  is  a 
terribly  passionate,  horribly  cruel  woman.' 

'  My  dear  Rosamond,  do  not  believe  it,' 
said  Laura  ;  '  and  do  not  repeat  such  things, 
when  you  are  not  sure  that  they  are  true.' 

'  I  am  quite  sure  that  what  I  have  heard  is 
true,'  said  Rosamond,  '  I  will  tell  you  the 
whole  story,  and  then,  I  will  answer  for  it, 
you  will  acknowledge  that  Mrs.  Cole  is,  and 
ought  to  be  called,  a  horribly  passionate,  cruel 
woman.  One  day,  just  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening — ' 

Rosamond  stopped  short  in  her  story,  for 
her  mother  came  into  the  room  and  told  her 
that  breakfast  was  ready.  As  they  were  go- 
ing into  the  breakfast  room,  Rosamond  whis- 
pered to  Laura,  '  You  must  not  ask  me  to  go 
on  with  that  story  till  we  are  by  ourselves.' 

Laura  looked  grave ;  she  said  nothing  how- 
ever at  that  time,  but,  as  soon  as  breakfast 
was  over,  she  asked  Rosamond  to  come  to 
their  own  room,  where  they  would  be  by 
themselves. 

1  Ho,  ho  ! '  said  Rosamond,  as  soon  as  they 
were  in  their  room,  '  I  see  that  I  have  excited 
your  curiosity  at  last,  Miss  Laura.  I  know 
the  reason  you  are  in  such  a  hurry  to  have 


10  EARLY  LESSONS. 

me  alone  with  you  again — to  hear  my  story 
of  Red-hot  Coal.' 

'  I  confess  I  am  curious  to  hear  it,  and  anx- 
ious too,'  said  Laura. 

'  Anxious  and  curious — to  be  sure  you 
are !  I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least,'  cried  Ro- 
samond ;  '  and  I  am  delighted  to  find  that  I 
have  made  the  sage  Laura  so  curious  and  so 
anxious.' 

'  But  you  don't  understand  me.  The  rea- 
son why  I  am  anxious  is — ' 

'  I  suppose,'  interrupted  Rosamond,  '  that 
you  are  anxious  only  for  poor,  dear  Mrs. 
Cole's  sake,  and  that  you  have  no  curiosity 
for  your  own  part,  at  least,  so  you  would 
make  me  believe.  But,  as  Anne  Townsend 
says,  I  understand  human  nature  a  little  too 
well  to  be  taken  in  so  easily.  Ah,  Laura, 
you  may  sigh,  and  look  as  demure,  or  as  im- 
patient as  you  please.  I  have  you  in  my 
power.  O,  the  joy  of  having  a  good  story 
and  a  good  secret  to  tell ! '  continued  Rosa- 
mond. '  But  I  assure  you  that  you  should 
not  hear  it  this  half  hour,  but  that  I  am  afraid 
my  dancing  master  will  come  before  I  have 
time  to  tell  it  to  you,  if  I  don't  tell  it  directly. 
But,  Laura,  if  you  do  not  quite  laugh,  and 
almost  cry,  I  will  never  tell  you  any  thing 
again.' 

i  That  is  a  threat  that  does  not  frighten  me 
much,'  said  Laura,  smiling. 

1  Because  you  think  I  can't  help  telling 
every  thing  ;  that  is  very  provoking  !  but  the 


BOSAMOND. 


11 


dancing  master  will  be  here,  so  tnis  once  I 
will  tell  you  : — 

'  One  winter's  day,  just  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  when  people  sit  round  the  fire,  be- 
fore the  candles  come,  old  Mrs.  Cole  was  sit- 
ting by  the  fire  in  her  arm-chair,  making  that 
poor  little  girl  read  to  her,  that  Bessy  Bell ; 
and  she  went  on  and  on,  reading,  while  old 
Mrs.  Cole,  never  perceiving  that  there  was 
not  light  enough,  cried,  Go  on,  go  on,  while 
she  was  all  the  time  going  to  sleep ;  till,  at 
last,  little  Bessy  heard  a  loud  snoring,  and, 
looking  up,  she  saw  Mrs.  Cole  fast  asleep, 
with  her  head  back  and  her  mouth  open; 


12  EARLY   LESSONS. 

and,  just  then,  the  servant  coming  in  with  the 
candles,  and  Mrs.  Cole  stirring  a  little,  cap, 
wig,  and  all  fell  off,  over  the  back  of  the  chair ; 
and  she  did  look  so  very  droll  that  the  child 
could  not  help  bursting  out  laughing,'  said 
Rosamond,  who  was  here  obliged  to  pause  in 
her  story,  she  was  so  much  diverted  at  the 
recollection  of  Anne  Townsend's  description 
of  her.  '  Well,  my  dear,  Mrs.  Cole  wakened 
while  Bessy  Bell  was  laughing,  and  she  was 
extremely  angry ;  and,  all  the  time  she  was 
scolding,  she  looked  so  excessively  ugly,  and 
so  odd  without  cap  or  wig,  so  very  odd,  that, 
though  Bessy  Bell  did  all  she  could  to  stop  it, 
she  could  not  help  laughing  again.  So,  Hot 
Coal,  Red-hot  Coal,  came  up  to  her,  saying, 
I'll  teach  you  to  laugh  at  me  !  and  gave  her 
such  a  box  on  the  ear,  that  flashes  of  light 
came  from  her  eyes  ;  and,  before  she  knew 
where  she  was,  Mrs.  Cole  gave  her  another 
blow,  which  knocked  her  down,  and  she  fell 
— O  !  now  comes  the  shocking  part — she  fell 
on  the  spikes  of  the  fender !  and  one  of  the 
spikes  ran  into  her  arm,  and  she  cried  out ; 
and  that  horrible  woman,  when  she  saw  this, 
left  her  there,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  long, 
saying,  That  will  teach  you  to  laugh  again 
at  me,  you  ungrateful  creature  !  O,  my  dear, 
think  of  leaving  her'  writhing  on  spikes  ! ' 

1 1  do  not  believe  that  part  of  the  story  in 
the  least,'  said  Laura. 

'  But  I  give  you  my  word  it  is  true  ! '  said 
Rosamond  ;    '  but  stay,   you  have  not  heard 


ROSAMOND.  13 

all.  When  at  last  she  took  the  child  up,  who 
was  all  streaming  with  blood  and  just  faint- 
ing, what  do  you  think  she  did  ]  She  took  her 
by  the  very  arm  that  the  spike  had  run  into, 
and  shook  her  so  that  she  broke  the  arm  ? ' 

'  Broke  it ! '  cried  Laura,  with  a  look  of 
horror ;  '  but  I  am  sure  it  is  not  true.  I  can- 
not believe  it.' 

'  But  you  must  believe  it ;  I  assure  you  it 
is  certain  true,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  How  can  you  be  certain  of  that,'  said 
Laura,  '  you  did  not  see  it  ? ' 

'  No,  but  I  heard  it,'  said  Rosamond,  '  from 
one  who  heard  it  from  the  very  girl  herself, 
who,  you  know,  you  say  is  a  girl  that  speaks 
truth.' 

c  That  is  true  ;  but  you  heard  this  account 
from  Miss  To wnsend,  did  not  you  ? ' 

1 1  did  ;  but  surely  you  do  not  suspect  that 
Anne  Townsend  would  tell  a  falsehood,  and 
such  a  falsehood,  such  a  horrible  lie  !  You 
do  not  think  that  she  invented  the  whole.  O, 
my  dear  Laura,  could  you,  who  are  so  good, 
think  so  ill  of  any  human  creature  !  I  could 
not  have  conceived  it.' 

'  Stay,  Rosamond,  you  do  not  understand 
me ;  I  do  not  suspect  Miss  Townsend  of  hav- 
ing invented  the  whole  of  this  story,  or  think 
her  capable  of  telling  such  a  horrible  false- 
hood.' 

*  No,  nor  a  falsehood  of  any  kind,'  cried 
Rosamond,  '  surely  you  do  not  think  she 
would.' 


14  EARLY   LESSONS. 

1  Not  intentionally,'  said  Laura  ;  l  but,  my 
dear  Rosamond,  I  have  heard  her,  for  the 
sake  of  making  out  a  good  story,  and  to  divert 
or  to  surprise  people,  in  short  to  produce  a 
great  effect,  exaggerate  sometimes,  so  that  I 
cannot  think  her  so  exact  about  the  truth  as 
she  ought  to  be.' 

Rosamond  became  serious  and  thoughtful ; 
and,  after  some  minutes'  silence,  said,  '  I  ac- 
knowledge that  sometimes  Anne  Townsend 
does  exaggerate  a  little ;  but  that  is  only  in 
droll  stories,  or  in  describing,  and  that,  she 
says,  is  allowable;  but,  in  earnest,  I  am  sure 
she  would  be  careful,  and  you  will  see  that 
all  she  has  told  me  will  prove  to  be  true,  quite 
true.' 

'  But  is  it  not  more  likely,  my  dear  Rosa- 
mond, that  she  should  have  exaggerated,  or 
misunderstood,  than  that  any  body  should 
have  been  so  cruel  as  she  represents  Mrs.  Cole 
to  have  been,  a  woman  who  was  never  known 
or  suspected  to  be  cruel  before  7 ' 

'  But,  Laura,  you  are  prepossessed  in  favor 
of  Mrs.  Cole,'  said  Rosamond,  '  and  preju- 
diced against  poor  Anne  Townsend;  but  I 
shall  see  her  again  to-morrow,  when  we  go 
to  Mrs.  Townsend' s  to  practise  the  quadrille, 
and  then  I  will  ask  her  to  tell  me  over  again 
every  particular,  and  you  shall  be  convinced.' 

Here  Rosamond  was  interrupted  by  a  ser- 
vant who  came  to  tell  her  that  her  dancing 
master  was  waiting ;  Laura  said  she  was 
sorry  that  they  had  been  called  so  soon,  for 


ROSAMOND.  15 

that  she  had  not  had  time  to  say  what  she 
was  most  anxious  to  say  to  Rosamond. 

1  What  can  you  mean  ? '  cried  Rosamond, 
stopping  short,  '  I  thought  you  were  anxious 
only  about  my  story.' 

'  I  am  much  more  anxious  about  you,  my 
dear  Rosamond,'  said  Laura.  '  Do  not  be 
angry  with  me,  if  I  say  that,  though  Miss 
Townsend  is  very  entertaining,  I  should  be 
sorry  you  were  like  her;  and  I  should  be  sorry, 
my  dear  Rosamond,  that  you  were  to  imitate 
her;  I  don't  think  she  is  a  good  friend  for 
you.' 

1  Why  so?'  asked  Rosamond,  in  a  tone  of 
much  disappointment  and  dissatisfaction. 

1  Because  I  don't  like  her  habit  of  laughing 
at  every  body.  Even  those  who  have  been 
most  kind  to  her  she  ridicules,  you  see,  the 
moment  she  is  out  of  their  company.  Then 
she  repeats  every  thing  she  sees  and  hears  in 
every  family  she  goes  into,  and  almost  all  the 
anecdotes  she  tells  are  ill-natured  ;  what 
mother  calls  petty  scandal.  Besides,  I  do  not 
like  her  desiring  you  not  to  mention  to  moth- 
er what  she  told  you.' 

'  Now  that  is  very  unjust  indeed,'  said  Ro- 
samond ;  '  you  blame  her  both  for  not  telling 
and  for  telling ;  you  say  you  don't  like  her 
habit  of  repeating  every  thing  she  hears,  and 
you  do  not  like  her  desiring  me  not  to  repeat 
what  she  said  to  mother.' 

'  But  is  not  there  a  great  deal  of  difference,' 
said  Laura,  c  between  telling  little  ill-natured 


16  EARLY  LESSONS. 

stories,  and  telling  what  we  hear  and  what 
we  think  to  our  best  friends — to  mother,  for 
instance?  But  I  have  not  time  to  explain 
what  I  mean  entirely,'  said  Laura,  '  we  must 
go  down  to  the  dancing  master.'  Rosamond 
acknowledged  that  there  was  some  truth  in 
Laura's  general  opinion  of  Miss  Townsend's 
love  of  scandal;  but  she  was  eager  to  prove 
that,  in  the  present  instance,  what  she  had 
said  was  perfectly  true. 

'  But,  my  dear  Rosamond,'  said  Laura, 
{ how  happens  it  that  you,  who  are  in  general 
so  good-natured,  should  be  anxious  to  prove 
that  this  horrible  story  of  Mrs.  Cole  is  quite 
true  1  Is  it  merely  because  you  have  heard 
it,  or  because  you  have  told  it  7 ' 

Whether  Rosamond  heard  this  last  question 
or  not,  never  appeared;  she  made  no  answer 
to  it,  but  observed  that  she  could  keep  poor 
M.  Deschamps  waiting  no  longer. 

The  next  day  Laura  and  Rosamond  went 
to  Mrs.  Townsend's,  as  it  was  their  custom 
at  this  time  to  do,  twice  a  week,  to  practise 
quadrilles  with  the  Misses  Townsend,  and 
with  some  other  young  people,  who  met  by 
turns  at  each  other's  houses.  Rosamond,  im- 
patient to  see  Miss  Anne  Townsend,  nattered 
herself  that  she  should  have  an  opportunity, 
if  they  went  early,  to  talk  to  her  in  private 
before  the  rest  of  their  companions  should 
come.  But,  to  her  disappointment,  on  their 
arrival,  she  heard  from  Mrs.  Townsend  that 


ROSAMOND.  17 

her  daughter  Anne  had  caught  such  a  cold 
that  she  was  not  allowed  this  night  to  join 
the  dancing  party',  ^and  was  confined  to  her 
bed. 

1  But  you  will  not  lose  your  quadrille,  Miss 
Rosamond,'  said  Mrs.  Townsend,  observing 
Rosamond's  look  of  disappointment  and  des- 
pair. '  I  have  invited  one  of  the  Misses  Bel- 
mont here,  to  take  Anne's  place  to-night.  To 
be  sure  Miss  Belmont  does  not  dance  quite  so 
well  as  our  own  set,  and  may  perhaps  put 
you  out,  but  we  can  manage  it  for  once ;  and 
I  must  do  her  the  justice  to  say  that  she  is 
very  obliging,  which  makes  up  for  any  other 
little  deficiencies.  Here  she  is  ;  I  believe  you 
have  never  been  introduced  to  each  other,' 
continued  Mrs.  Townsend,  taking  Rosamond's 
hand  as  she  led  her  to  Miss  Belmont. 

As  the  dancing  did  not  immediately  begin, 
Rosamond  and  Miss  Belmont  were  left  to- 
gether. With  the  recollection  of  all  she  had 
heard,  and  all  she  had  said  of  thts  young 
lady's  shabbiness  full  in  her  mind,  Rosamond 
felt  somewhat  embarrassed.  Whatever  she 
tried  to  talk  of,  all  the  stories  she  had  heard, 
crossed  and  puzzled  her  thoughts,  so  that  she 
never  could  finish  any  one  distinct  sentence. 
Miss  Belmont  meantime,  quite  at  her  ease,  in 
the  most  obliging  manner  tried  to  find  sub- 
jects of  conversation,  not  disdaining  to  talk  to 
Rosamond,  though  she  was  some  years  young 
er  than  herself.     Of  dancing,  music,  drawing 

VOL.  II.      2 


18  EARLY   LESSONS. 

she  spoke,  but  in  vain ;  Rosamond  did  not 
know  what  she  said,  and  the  conversation 
dropped.  At  length  some  one  came  up  and 
said  to  Miss  Belmont — 

'  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  ride  this  morn- 
ing.    Do  you  ride  to-morrow  ? ' 

Miss  Belmont  answered  that  she  did  not, 
that  it  was  her  sister's  turn  to  ride  the  next 
day,  and  that  they  never  rode  on  the  same 
days. 

'  Ah,  ha !  I  know  the  reason  of  that,'  thought 
Rosamond.  '  Anne  Townsend  is  in  the  right 
about  this.' 

The  friend,  who  was  speaking  to  Miss  Bel- 
mont and  who  was  her  near  relation,  said.  c  I 
know  you  have  but  one  horse  that  you  like  to 
ride ;  but  I  can  lend  you  my  little  Janette  to- 
morrow, and  all  next  week,  so,  if  you  please, 
you  and  your  sister  can  ride  together.' 

Miss  Belmont  thanked  her  friend,  but  de- 
clined her  kind  offer,  saying,  in  a  whisper, — 
1  There  is  another  difficulty ;  we  have  only 
one  habit  as  well  as  one  horse  amongst  us ; ' 
and,  with  a  slight  blush,  ingenuous  counte- 
nance, and  sweet  voice,  she  added,  '  you  know 
we  are  poor,  and,  in  mother's  circumstances, 
we  should  be  at  as  little  expense  to  her  as 
possible,  in  our  dress  or  our  pleasures.' 

Miss  Belmont's  partner  then  taking  her  out 
to  dance,  her  relation,  turning  to  another 
friend,  said,  '  Though  they  are  my  own  rela- 
tions, I  hope  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  that  the 
Misses  Belmont  are  most  amiable  girls.' 


ROSAMOND. 


19 


'  Yes,'  replied  the  friend,  '  so  generous  too ; 
come  with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  such  an 
instance ! ' 

1  What  a  different  person  she  is  from  what 
she  was  represented  to  me,'  thought  Rosa- 
mond. '  Anne  Townsend  did  not  exaggerate 
the  circumstances,  but  she  misrepresented  the 
motives,  that  is,  she  did  not  understand,  or 
she  did  not  know  them ;  and  I  will  tell  her 
how  much  she  was  mistaken.' 

Dancing  interrupted  Rosamond's  moral  re- 
flections, and  dancing  employed  her  till  late 
in  the  evening,  when,  as  she  was  drinking 
some  lemonade,  Mrs.  Townsend  came  to  her 
and  said — '  If  you   are  quite  cool  now,  Miss 


20  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Rosamond,  I  can  take  you  up  to  Anne  for  a 
few  minutes,  as  you  are  so  anxious  to  see  her. 
She  is  awake  now,  and  will  be  delighted  to 
see  you.' 

Rosamond  looked  back  for  Laura,  as  Mrs. 
Townsend  took  her  out  of  the  room  ;  but 
Laura  was  dancing,  and  Mrs.  Townsend 
could  not  wait. 

The  history  of  what  passed  in  this  inter- 
view Rosamond  gave  to  her  sister  at  night, 
when  they  were  going  to  bed,  in  the  following 
manner : — 

'  Well,  my  dear  Laura,  it  is  all  over ;  and 
how  do  you  think  it  has  ended  ?  We  have 
come  to  an  explanation,  and  I  am  convinced 
you  were  quite  right,  and  that  Anne  Town- 
send  is  too  fond  of  scandal ;  and  I  told  her  so ; 
and  we  have  had  such  a  quarrel  !  When  I 
went  to  her  room,  we  began  by  talking  about 
her  cold,  and  all  that ;  then  we  went  on  to  the 
dancing,  and  the  quadrille,  and  she  asked  me 
how  Miss  Belmont  had  got  through  it,  and 
regretted  that  her  mother  had  asked  her ;  then 
I  took  Miss  Belmont's  part,  and  said  that  I 
was  sure,  if  Miss  Townsend  knew  her.  she 
would  like  her.  I  said  I  thought  she  had 
been  quite  misrepresented  by  whoever  told 
the  ill-natured  stories.  I  repeated  what  I  had 
heard  her  say,  and  added  what  her  friend 
and  relation  had  said  of  her  being  generous  ; 
but  Miss  Townsend  still  insisted  upon  it  she 
was  right,  instead  of  fairly  acknowledging 
that  she  had   been   wrong,    or   that  she  was 


ROSAMOND.  21 

convinced  she  had  been  misinformed.  She 
only  laughed  at  my  credulity,  as  she  called 
it,  and  said  that  when  I  had  seen  more  of  the 
world  I  should  know  better — worse  she  meant. 
That  it  was  very  natural  that  Miss  Belmont's 
own  friend  and  relation  should  say  the  best 
she  could  for  her,  but  this  was  no  proof  she 
deserved  it ;  that  she  is  shabby  and  that  all 
the  Belmonts  are  shabby ;  and  that  she  could 
tell  me  fifty  other  stories  of  them  worse  than 
the  habit,  and  more  diverting.  And,  as  Miss 
Townsend  said  this,  that  flattering,  mincing 
maid  of  hers,  who  was  fidgetting  about  the 
bed  with  jelly,  or  something  which  nobody 
wanted,  smiled  and  said — To  be  sure,  that 
she  knew  enough  of  the  shabbiness  of  the 
Belmonts,  of  which  she  could  tell  a  hundred 
instances,  if  she  pleased.  But  I  said  I  had  no 
curiosity  to  hear  any  such  stories.  I  perceiv- 
ed from  this  where  Anne  Townsend' s  anec- 
dotes came  from,  and  I  felt  ashamed  for  her ; 
and  I  believe  I  looked  as  if  I  wished  the  maid 
away ;  but  she  did  not  go  till  Anne,  who  per- 
haps was  a  little  ashamed  of  herself,  told  her 
she  need  not  stay.  As  soon  as  she  was  gone 
I  lost  no  time,  for  I  was  determined  to  know 
the  truth,  and  to  see  the  very  bottom  of  Anne 
Townsend' s  mind.' 

'  Ah,  my  dear  Rosamond,'  said  Laura, 
c  you  think  it  as  easy  to  see  to  the  bottom  of 
every  body's  mind  as  it  is  to  see  to  the  bot- 
tom of  your  own  open  heart.' 

1  On  I  went  into  the  very  middle  of  the  Hot 


22  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Coal  business,'  continued  Rosamond ;  { and  I 
told  her  that  I  had  repeated  the  story  to  you, 
and  that  you  doubted  the  truth  of  it,  and 
thought  she  had  been  misinformed.  She  be- 
gan to  look  angry  directly,  and  reproached 
me  with  always  repeating  every  thing  I  hear. 
Only  think  of  her  charging  me  with  the  very 
thing  she  does  herself !  She  wondered  why 
you  doubted  the  story ;  she  asserted  that  she 
knew  it  was  perfectly  true,  and  that  she  had 
it  from  the  very  best  authority.  Yes,  said  I, 
I  assured  Laura  that  you  heard  it  from  Bessy 
Bell  herself.  But  Anne  Townsend  interrupt- 
ed me,  and  explained  to  me  that  the  story 
was  not  actually  told  to  her  by  Bessy  Bell, 
but  only  that  it  came  from  herself;  that  is, 
the  person  who  told  it  to  Anne  Townsend 
heard  it  from  somebody  who  heard  it  from 
Bessy  Bell.' 

'  O !  that  makes  a  great  difference,'  said 
Laura. 

'  Yes,'  said  Rosamond,  '  quite  another 
thing !  Then  came  out  another  change  in 
the  business ;  I  thought  that  the  affair  had 
but  just  happened,  and  that  the  child  was 
lying  wounded  and  half  dead  at  this  moment ! 
but  this  was  all  a  mistake  in  my  foolish  im- 
agination, as  Anne  Townsend  says,  for  at 
this  moment  the  girl  is  as  well  as  I  am.  All 
this  happened  a  year  ago — Therefore,  said 
she,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  say  any  thing 
more  about  it ;  and  she  added  that,  unless  I 
wanted  to  make  mischief,  I  must  never  speak 


ROSAMOND.  23 

of  it  again,  and  must  never  let  any  body  know 
that  I  had  heard  it.  She  bid  me  recollect 
that,  when  she  told  me  this,  I  had  promised 
her  I  would  not  tell  a  word  of  it  to  mother. 
But  this  I  could  not  recollect,  because  it  was 
not  so.  When  I  insisted  upon  this  fact,  she 
was  very  much  vexed,  and  then  asked  what 
reason  I  could  have  for  wanting  to  tell  it  to 
mother,  except  to  make  mischief.  I  said  that 
I  always  tell  mother  every  thing,  and  that 
you,  who  are  my  best  friend,  advised  me  not 
to  hear  any  secrets  which  I  must  not  tell  my 
mother.  She  said  that  this  was  all  mighty 
fine,  but  that  she  was  sure  I  had  some  other 
reason  for  wishing  to  tell  it  to  mother.  I 
answered  that  I  had  another  reason — that  I 
desired  to  find  out  the  exact  truth  of  the  Cole 
story,  that  I  might  prove  to  you  that  she  had 
not  exaggerated  in  telling  it.  She  thanked  me 
proudly,  and,  after  a  little  silence,  she  said — 
Now  pray  tell  me  exactly  all  you  told  your 
sister  Laura.  I  repeated  it  as  exactly  as  I 
could.  But,  when  I  came  to  Bessy  Bell's  being 
knocked  down  by  old  Mrs.  Cole,  and  falling 
on  the  spikes  of  the  fender,  and  the  stream 
of  blood,  Anne  Townsend  cried — No  such 
thing  !  no  such  thing !  and  protested  that  she 
had  never  said  a  word  of  a  stream  of  blood. 
But,  worse  and  worse,  when  I  came  to  Mrs. 
Cole's  shaking  Bessy  Bell's  arm  till  she  broke 
it,  Anne  Townsend  stopped  me  again,  and 
put  in  an  almost,  that  entirely  altered  the 
case.     But  indeed,  my  dear  Laura,  I  remem- 


24  EARLY   LESSONS. 

ber,  when  she  first  told  me  the  story,  exclaim- 
ing with  horror — What !  broke  her  arm  !  and 
Miss  Townsend  could  have  set  me  right  then. 
When  I  reminded  her  of  this,  she  would  not 
listen  to  me.  She  knew  she  was  wrong,  and 
would  not  acknowledge  it,  and  she  wanted  to 
throw  all  the  blame  upon  me.  At  last  she 
was  quite  out  of  humor,  and  said  I  had  mis- 
represented and  exaggerated  the  whole  story. 
Then  I  confess  I  grew  very  angry,  and  I  can- 
not exactly  remember  what  I  said,  but  I  be- 
lieve that  the  sense  of  it  was,  that  I  should  be 
very  sorry  to  have  any  person  for  my  friend 
who  was  not  exact  about  truth,  and  that  I 
was  very  glad  that  I  had  found  out  her  real 
character  before  I  had  grown  too  fond  of  her. 
She  laughed — which  provoked  me  more  than 
all  the  rest ;  and  only  think  of  her  punning  at 
such  a  time  !  She  said  she  believed  I  was 
indeed  fitter  to  be  a  friend  of  old  Hot  Coal ; 
that  she  fancied  I  was  of  the  family  of  the 
Hot  Coals,  nearly  related — Kindle  Coal,  cer- 
tainly. I  wished  her  a  good-night,  and  left 
her ;  and  I  never  desire  to  see  her  again.  She 
may  be  as  entertaining  and  witty  as  she 
pleases,  I  shall  never  love  her  again.  Who 
would  wish  to  have  such  a  friend  as  Anne 
Townsend?  You  were  very  right,  Laura, 
and  I  was  very  foolish.' 

The  next  morning,  when  Rosamond  waken- 
ed, she  began  the  day  with  this  sage  reflec- 
tion,— '  How  different  the  same  person  and 


ROSAMOND.  25 

the  same  things  appear  to  me  now,  from  what 
they  did  even  at  this  time  yesterday  !  Anne 
Townsend  for  instance,  and  Anne  Town- 
send'  s  wit !  wit  is  very  entertaining ;  but,  my 
dear  Laura,  I  think  I  like  people  better,  for 
friends,  who  have  no  wit.' 

i  Why  so,  my  dear  Rosamond,'  said  Laura, 
smiling ;  '  would  you  keep  all  the  wit  for 
yourself?' 

'  No,'  said  Rosamond,  '  I  would  rather  not 
have  wit  myself;  it  may  tempt  people  to  be 
ill-natured,  and  to  ridicule  every  thing  and 
every  body.' 

'  But,  by  the  same  rule,'  said  Laura,  '  you 
would  rather  not  have  any  fire  I  suppose,  be- 
cause fire  sometimes  burns  people,  if  they  are 
not  careful  about  it.' 

Rosamond  laughed,  and  soon  gave  up  her 
rash  resolution  against  wit,  when  Laura  re- 
minded her  of  the  character  of  Lady  Little- 
ton— 

A  wit  that,  temperately  bright, 

With  inoffensive  light 

All  pleasing  shone,  nor  ever  past 

The  decent  bounds  that  wisdom's  sober  hand, 

And  sweet  benevolence's  mild  command, 

And  bashful  modesty,  before  it  cast. 

'  I  love  those  lines,'  cried  Rosamond;  'that 
is  the  kind  of  wit  I  should  like  to  have !  But 
I  must  make  haste  and  dress  myself,  that  I 
may  go  to  mother  and  tell  her  the  whole 
affair.' 

And,  when  she  had   related  all  that  had'. 

VOL.  II.       3 


26  EARLY    LESSONS. 

passed,  she  was  very  anxious  to  know  what 
her  mother  thought  of  the  whole.  Her  moth- 
er told  her  that  she  thought  she  had  been  too 
sudden  in  her  liking  for  Miss  Anne  Town- 
send  at  first,  and  perhaps  a  little  too  angry  at 
last ;  yet  she  was,  upon  the  whole,  well  satis- 
fied with  her  conduct,  and  glad  that  she  felt 
such  an  aversion  to  any  appearance  of  pre- 
varication and  falsehood.  It  was  not  yet 
possible  to  decide  whether  or  not  Miss  Town- 
send  had  told  an  absolute  falsehood  ;  but  it 
was  plain  that,  in  her  desire  to  surprise,  or  to 
entertain,  she  had  been  careless  about  truth, 
and  had  considerably  exaggerated  and  mis- 
represented facts. 

1  That  she  certainly  did,'  cried  Rosamond. 
1  But  now,  mother,  that  we  may  get  quite  to 
the  bottom  of  the  truth,  will  you  be  so  kind 
as  to  call  this  morning  to  inquire  how  poor 
old  Mrs.  Cole  does  1  If  she  lets  you  in,  as  I 
dare  say  she  will,  you  can  find  out  for  me, 
without  making  any  mischief,  the  whole  truth 
exactly  about  Bessy  Bell,  and  the  fender,  and 
the  blood ;  for  I  am  excessively  curious  to 
know  all  the  particulars  exactly.' 

1  But  I  do  not  see  that  any  good  purpose 
can  be  answered  by  gratifying  this  curiosity 
of  yours,  my  dear,'  said  her  mother  ;  '  there- 
fore let  me  advise  you  to  repress  it.  You  are 
assured  that  the  child  is  quite  well ;  and,  as 
to  the  rest,  you  cannot  do  her  any  good,  and 
you  might  do  her  injury  by  interference. 
Prom  all  that  has  passed  you  may  observe 


ROSAMOND.  27 

the  danger  of  exaggeration,  and  I  advise  you 
to  take  warning  by  this.  Do  not  repeat  what 
Miss  Townsend  told  you  to  any  of  your 
young  companions.1 

1  But,  mother,'  said  Rosamond,  '  I  wish  you 
would  explain  to  me  the  right  and  the  wrong 
about  repeating;  I  am  very  much  puzzled 
about  it.  Let  me  consider — it  is  right  always 
to  tell  you  and  Laura  every  thing  I  hear; 
and  it  is  wrong,  sometimes,  to  tell  the  same 
things  to  my  young  companions  ;  and  I  do 
not  know  how  to  settle  these  contradictions; 
and  you  love  those  who  have  an  open  tem- 
per, and  you  esteem  those  who  are  sincere ; 
and  yet  some  things  are  never  to  be  repeated ; 
you  like  people  that  are  entertaining,  and  yet 
people  cannot  be  entertaining  if  they  never 
tell  any  thing  they  hear,  can  they  \  I  am 
sure  that  many  of  those  you  like,  and  whom 
you  think  the  most  sensible,  agreeable  people, 
often,  in  conversation,  relate  anecdotes  that 
amuse  you,  and  that  show  the  characters  of 
different  persons ;  and  how  am  I  to  distinguish 
the  difference  between  this  and  what  you  call 
petty  scandal?' 

'  My  dear,  you  have  put  so  many  difficult 
questions,'  said  her  mother,- smiling,  '  I  shall 
find  it  impossible,  I  am  afraid,  to  answer  them 
all  at  once.  But,  to  begin  with  your  puzzle 
about  secrecy  and  sincerity,  you  may  be  per- 
fectly sincere  and  open  about  every  thing  that 
concerns  yourself,  and,  at  the  same  time,  you 
may  forbear  to  tell  what  does  not  concern  you3 


28  EARLY   LESSONS. 

and  what  might  injure  others.  Never  repeat 
any  thing  to  the  disadvantage  of  any  person, 
unless  you  are  sure  it  is  true ;  never  tell  any 
thing  ill-natured  of  any  one,  even  if  it  be  true, 
unless  it  is  to  be  of  use,  and  to  do  some  good 
greater  than  the  pain  you  inflict;  in  short, 
never  repeat  what  is  ill-natured,  merely  for 
the  pleasure  of  telling  what  may  divert  oth- 
ers, or  show  you  own  cleverness,  as  it  is  call- 
ed.' 

'  The  last  is  a  very  good  rule,  mother, '  said 
Rosamond,  blushing. 

'  And  to  this  rule  there  can  be  no  exception,' 
continued  her  mother.  '  To  my  other  general 
rules  there  may  be  some  exceptions.  Circum- 
stances may  possibly  occur,  in  which,  for  the 
sake  of  justice  and  truth,  it  is  our  duty  to  re- 
peat or  reveal  what  may  be  much  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  others.' 

'  Ah !  there's  the  thing,  mother;  how  am  I 
to  distinguish  V 

1  At  your  age,  and  with  your  inexperience, 
you  cannot  yet  judge  in  these  difficult  circum- 
stances, my  dear,'  answered  her  mother  ; 
1  therefore  I  advise  you  to  consult  those  who 
have  more  experience  ;  and  it  is  safest  to  ap- 
ply, in  all  difficulties,  to  those  who  are  most 
interested  for  your  happiness.' 

'  That  is  to  you,  mother ;  yes,  certainly, 
and  to  Laura.  I  will  always  tell  you  when 
I  am  in  doubt  about  right  and  wrong.' 

1  If  you  do,  my  dear,  I  will  always  to  the 
best  of  my  power   give   you  my  advice.     I 


ROSAMOND.  29 

acknowledge  that  petty  scandal  may  be  en- 
tertaining, and — ' 

1  O  yes,  mother !  Anne  Townsend  is  very 
entertaining.' 

'  But  you  perceived  some  of  the  mischief 
she  might  do.  And  when  you  know  more  of 
the  world,  you  will  find  that  a  scandalous 
story  is  scarcely  ever  repeated  without  inac- 
curacy or  exaggeration ;  even  by  those  who 
do  not  intend  to  alter  or  exaggerate  in  the 
least,  some  little  difference  is  made  in  the 
warmth  of  description,  the  eagerness  to  inter- 
est, and  the  desire  to  produce  effect.' 

'  Very  true ;  I  recollect  that  even  I  said 
streaming*  with  blood,  when  I  was  telling 
Laura  about  Bessy  Bell ;  and,  if  I  had  been 
quite  exact,  I  should  have  only  said  bleeding, 
or  covered  with  blood  ;  for,  to  do  Anne  Town- 
send  justice,  that  was>  as  she  reminded  me, 
all  she  said.  But  go  on,  mother,  for  I  am 
really  anxious  to  know  how  to  do  right  for 
the  future.' 

'  I  am  sure  you  are,'  said  her  mother,  kiss- 
ing her  affectionately  ;  '  and,  with  such  good 
dispositions  and  good  principles,  you  cannot 
go  much  wrong.  You  have  as  yet,  however, 
so  little  knowledge  of  the  world,  that  it  is  not 
possible  for  me  to  explain  to  you  all  the  mis- 
chief that  may  be  done  by  spreading  trifling 
reports.  Some  instances  may  give  you  an 
idea  of  the  sort  of  things  you  should  avoid 
repeating.  Your  own  feelings  tell  you  how 
painful  it  would  be  to  yourself  to  hear  repeat- 


30  EARLY   LESSONS. 

ed  to  you  what  any  one  you  loved  had  said 
of  you,  at  some  time  when  they  were  dis- 
pleased with  you,  or  when  they  had  spoken 
hastily  of  you  or  your  faults.' 

J  Yes,  mother,  I  remember  Anne  Townsend 
once  told  me  something  that  was  said  by 
somebody — I  will  not  tell  you  who — it  gave 
me  a  great  deal  of  pain,  and  made  me  like 
that  person  less — and  much  less  than  if  she 
had  found  fault  with  me  to  my  face.' 

'  Yes,  such  repetitions  are  injurious,'  said 
her  mother.  '  You  know,  Rosamond,  how 
sorry  you  would  feel,  if  every  hasty  word 
you  say  was  repeated.' 

■  Certainly,  mother;  people  forget  so  soon 
what  they  say  when  they  are  angry ;  and 
they  never  mean  half  so  much  as  they  say.' 

'  And,'  continued  her  mother,  -  in  repeating 
such  things,  the  tone  and  manner  in  which 
they  were  said  must  often  be  altered  by  the 
repeater,  and  then  they  appear  a  great  deal 
worse  than  they  really  were.  What  might 
be  said  half  in  jest  is  turned  into  earnest,  and 
perhaps  these  trifling,  vexatious  things  are 
repeated  at  a  time  when  those  to  whom  they 
are  told  are  not  in  good-humor,  or  when  they 
have  other  causes  of  complaint,  so  that  alto- 
gether they  produce  suspicions  and  quarrels 
among  acquaintances  and  friends.' 

\  I  recollect,  mother,  your  being  displeased 
once,  when  somebody  repeated  to  you  some 
dispute  which  they  had  overheard,  no,  heard 
— let  me   take  care   to  be  exact — between  a 


ROSAMOND. 


m 


husband  and  wife.  You  stopped  them  by- 
turning  the  conversation  to  something  else ; 
and  you  said  afterwards,  to  Laura,  that  such 
things  should  never  be  repeated.  Laura,' 
continued  Rosamond,  as  she  turned  to  look 
for  her,  '  what  are  you  searching  for  in  that 
book,  instead  of  listening  to  what  we  are  say- 
ing'?' 

'  I  have  heard  all  you  were  saying,'  said 
Laura ;  '  and  I  am  looking  for  a  story  that  I 
think  you  will  like  to  read  ;  it  is  an  account 
of  a  girl  who  ruined  a  whole  family  by  re- 
peating something  about  family  affairs,  which 
she  did  not  understand.' 

'  O,  give  it  me  ! '  cried  Rosamond  ;  J  but  is 
it  true  'I ' 

'  I  should  think  it  is  true ;  I  am  sure  it 
might  be  true,'  answered  Laura. 

■  What  is  the  name  of  the  book  1 ' 

'  Mrs.  Palmerstone's  Letters  to  her  Daugh- 
ter.' 

'  I  will  read  the  story  before  I  stir  from  this 
place,'  said  Rosamond. 

Accordingly  she  read  the  story.  It  inter- 
ested her  very  much,  so  much  that  she  could 
hardly  think  of  any  thing  else  for  some  hours. 
And  she  said  to  Laura, — '  What  a  striking 
lesson  !  I  am  sure  it  has  made  an  impression 
upon  me  that  I  never,  never  can  forget.' 

But  the  impressions  on  Rosamond's  mind, 
though  easily  made,  and  seemingly  strong 
and  deep,  were  like  the  writing  on  the  sand, 
often  shaken  and  quickly  obliterated. 


$£  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Not  more  than  a  fortnight  afterwards,  when 
she  was  at  Mrs.  Belmont's,  where  it  had  been 
arranged  that  she  was  to  meet  her  young 
companions  to  practise  quadrilles,  it  happened 
that  one  of  the  Misses  Belmont  asked  her 
what  was  the  cause  of  her  not  liking  Anne 
Townsend  so  well  as  she  did  formerly  )  She 
at  first  answered  prudently — '  I  cannot  tell 
you  any  thing  about  it ;  O.  don't  ask  me  !' 

But  some  one  present  declared  that  she 
knew  the  whole  already,  and  that  she  had 
had  it  all  from  Miss  Townsend.  Rosamond 
was  provoked  at  perceiving  that  the  whole 
had  been  told  to  her  disadvantage  ;  and  that 
it  was  insinuated  that  the  fear  that  something 
discreditable  to  herself  should  come  out,  was 
the  cause  of  her  present  reserve.  Forgetting 
her  mother's  cautions,  and  her  own  resolu- 
tions, Rosamond  then  began  and  told  all  that 
had  passed,  and  all  that  she  had  heard  from 
Miss  Townsend.  It  was  not  till  she  was  in 
the  middle  of  her  story  that  she  recollected 
herself,  and,  stopping  short,  exlcaimed — '  But 
I  cannot,  I  must  not  tell  you  any  more  about 
Mrs.  Cole  and  Bessy  Bell,  for  mother  desired 
that  I  would  not  repeat  it.' 

1  O,  my  dear  Rosamond,'  cried  one  of  her 
companions,  '  you  have  gone  so  far,  you  must 
go  on,  for  poor  Mrs.  Cole's  sake,  or  we  shall 
think  it  is  something  horrible,  much  worse 
probably  than  it  really  is.' 

1  That's  true,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  but  still  I 
ought  not  to  repeat  it.' 


ROSAMOND.  33 

'  But  we  shall  never  tell  it  again ;  it  will  be 
as  safe  with  us  as  with  yourself;  you  may 
depend  upon  it  we  shall  never  say  any  thing 
about  it,'  said  the  young  ladies,  adding  all  the 
arguments  of  this  sort,  with  all  the  assevera- 
tions and  promises,  usually  made  by  the  cu- 
rious upon  such  occasions.  Poor  Rosamond, 
overpowered  by  their  persuasions,  went 
on,  and,  bit  by  bit,  told  the  whole ;  and, 
whilst  she  was  in  the  midst  and  warmth  of 
her  narration,  her  eyes  always  fixed  on  the 
young  lady  to  whom  she  was  speaking,  she 
did  not  perceive  that  one  or  two  more  of  their 
acquaintance  came  into  the  little  music  room, 
where  they  were  standing,  and  joined  the 
party  of  listeners.  When  at  last  Rosamond 
wakened  to  the  sight  of  the  new  faces  among 
her  auditors,  she  stopped  and  started  ;  but  one 
of  her  companions  whispered  to  her — Go  on, 
go  on,  she  is  my  cousin  Susan,  I  will  answer 
for  her  ;  and  the  other  is  only  Mary  Law,  she 
will  not  understand  what  you  are  saying ; 
you  may  say  any  thing  before  her,  she  is  deaf, 
and  stupid  besides,  and  too  full  of  the  quad- 
rille to  think  of  any  thing  else.  Rosamond 
thus  re-assured  went  on  to  the  end  of  her  story. 
When  all  was  over,  and  when  she  went  home 
and  found  herself  again  with  Laura  and  her 
mother,  she  told  them  what  had  passed,  not 
without  some  shame;  but  still,  she  said,  she 
hoped  that  none  of  the  company  would  repeat 
what  she  had  said.  Her  mother  and  Laura 
hoped  so  too.     They  did  not  reproach  Rosa- 


34  EARLY    LESSONS. 

mond,  but  they  were  sorry  she  had  been 
tempted  to  break  her  wise  resolution. 

Some  days  passed.  No  more  was  said  upon 
the  subject.  Rosamond  forgave  herself,  and 
had  almost  forgotten  the  circumstance,  when, 
one  morning  it  was  brought  to  her  recollec- 
tion in  a  painful  manner. 

She  happened  to  go  with  her  mother  and 
sister  to  a  glover's  shop.  The  woman,  who 
kept  this  small  shop,  had  been  once  a  faithful 
servant  in  her  mother's  family,  and  therefore 
they  were  interested  for  her.  Laura  first  re- 
marked that  the  poor  woman  did  not  look  as 
well  as  usual.  She  answered  that  she  was 
well,  but  that  she  had  been  very  much  vexed 
this  day ;  she  begged  pardon  however,  it  was 
not  a  matter  of  great  consequence,  and  she 
would  not  trouble  them  about  it. 

While  she  was  speaking,  Rosamond  thought 
she  heard  the  sound  of  some  one  sobbing.  The 
sound  came  from  a  room  within  the  shop. 
The  woman  shut  the  door  close,  which  had 
been  a  little  open ;  and,  in  doing  this,  she  by 
accident  pushed  aside  the  green  curtain  that 
hung  before  the  glass  panes  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  door. 

Rosamond  looked  into  the  room  and  saw  a 
child  kneeling  by  a  chair,  with  her  head 
down  and  her  face  hid  in  her  hands,  crying 
as  if  her  heart  would  break.  Rosamond  look- 
ed at  Laura,  and,  with  much  emotion,  ex- 
claimed— '  What  can  be  the  matter  with  her; 
poor  little  thing?' 


ROSAMOND. 


35 


c  Ah,  poor  thing !  she  may  well  cry  as  she 
does,'  said  Mrs.  White,  the  woman  of  the 
shop  ;  '  she  has  lost  a  good  friend,  and  the 
best  friend  she  had  in  the  world ;  and  the 
only  one,  I  may  say,  that  could  and  would 
have  served  her  through  life  ;  but  she  is  an 
unfortunate  little  creature,  an  orphan  ;  Bessy 
Bell,  ladies,  that  you  may  remember  to  have 
seen  in  the  country  with  good  old  Mrs.  Cole  ; 
but,  Miss  Rosamond  !  my  dear  Miss  Rosa- 
mond is  as  pale  as  death  ! ' 

1 0 ! '  cried  Rosamond,  as  soon  as  she  could 
speak,  '  I  am  certain  I  am  the  cause  of  all  the 
mischief ;  but  go  on,  go  on,  tell  me  all ! ' 


00  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Mrs.  White,  much  astonished,  then  related 
all  she  knew  of  the  matter ;  that  Mrs.  Cole 
had  been  so  extremely  displeased  by  some 
report,  that  had  been  repeated  to  her,  of  Bessy 
Bell's  having  complained  of  her  cruelty,  and 
having  told,  with  many  circumstances  that 
were  not  true,  something  that  happened  in  her 
family  above  a  year  ago,  that  she  had  resolv- 
ed to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  child. 
'  Indeed,'  continued  Mrs.  White,  '  consider- 
ing how  excessively  generous  and  kind,  and 
like  a  mother  Mrs.  Cole  has  been  to  Bessy, 
and  the  pains  she  has  taken  with  her,  and 
the  affection  she  had  for  her,  I  cannot  wonder 
she  should  be  cut  to  the  heart,  and  made  as 
angry  as  she  is,  by  what  must  appear  to  her 
such  base  ingratitude  and  treachery  in  this 
child.  I  don't  like  to  tell  all  the  circumstances, 
lest  I  should  be  guilty  of  spreading  scandal- 
ous, false  reports,  as  others  have  been.' 

But  Rosamond  told  her  that  she  knew  all 
the  circumstances,  she  believed  ;  and,  as  well 
as  she  could,  in  the  extreme  agitation  of  her 
mind,  repeated  what  she  had  heard  from  Anne 
Townsend,  and  asked  if  this  was  the  report 
to  which  Mrs.  White  alluded. 

'  Yes,  ladies,  the  very  same,  as  far  as  I  can 
make  out ;  it  was  written  as  news  to  the  coun- 
try, and  so  came  round  again  to  Mrs.  Cole, 
and  never  was  a  story  more  exaggerated. 
Bessy  Bell !  Bess  !  come  here,  child,  and  tell 
how  it  was  ;    or  please  to  step  in  here,  ladies. 


ROSAMOND.  37 

for  she  is  ashamed,  poor  thing,  and  she  is  in 
such  a  condition.' 

Bessy  wiped  the  tears  from  her  face,  tried 
to  stop  her  sobs,   and  endeavored   to   speak. 

She  said  she  had  done  wrong,  very  wrong 
indeed !  but  not  as  wrong,  or  as  wickedly,  as 
had  been  reported  of  her ;  she  had,  a  year 
ago,  when  she  was  angry,  told  her  friend  the 
apothecary's  daughter,  that  Mrs.  Cole  had 
been  very  passionate  one  evening,  and  had 
given  her  such  a  box  on  the  ear,  as  had  near- 
ly knocked  her  down ;  and  she  had  said  that, 
if  she  had  fallen,  she  might  have  fallen  upon 
the  spikes  of  the  fender.  But  the  letter  assert- 
ed that  she  had  fallen  down,  and  that  the 
spikes  of  the  fender  had  run  into  her  arm  to 
the  bone  ;  and  that,  while  she  was  all  stream- 
ing with  blood,  Mrs.  Cole  shook  her  till  she 
broke  her  arm.  '  But  O,  ma'am,  I  never  ut- 
tered such  falsehoods !  I  was  very  wrong 
ever  to  tell  any  thing  about  it ;  for  Mrs.  Cole 
was  so  very,  very  kind  to  me ;  what  I  did  let 
out  I  told  at  the  minute  when  I  was  in  a 
passion,  and  that  was  a  year  ago,  and  I  had 
forgotten  it,  and  every  thing  I  said ;  and  how 
it  came  up,  and  how  it  came  out  again,  I  can- 
not conceive.' 

Rosamond's  mother  inquired  whether  Bessy 
knew  tne  name  of  the  lady  who  had  written 
the  letter.  She  replied  that  she  was  not  quite 
certain,  for  that  the  letter  was  put  into  her 
hands  out  for  a  minute,  but  that  she  believed 
it  was  Law — Martha  or  Mary  Law. 


38  EARLY   LESSONS. 

It  now  appeared  too  plain  that  the  whole 
mischief  had  arisen  from  that  young  lady's 
having  written  an  exaggerated  account  ot 
what  she  had  imperfectly  heard,  and  imper- 
fectly understood,  of  the  story  Rosamond  told 
to  her  companions  in  the  music  room  at  Mrs. 
Belmont's.  She  had  not  heard  the  explana- 
tion and  contradiction  of  the  first  part  of  Anne 
Townsend's  assertions,  and  had  gone  off  with 
the  falsehoods  instead  of  the  truth ;  then,  for 
want  of  something  to  say  in  her  next  letter, 
slow,  dull  Miss  Law  had  repeated  this  story. 
Thus  it  often  happens,  that  the  stupid  and 
slow,  as  well  as  the  quick  and  lively,  become 
spreaders  of  false  reports. 

Rosamond  was  miserable  when  she  saw  the 
mischief  she  had  occasioned  ;  she  could  not 
cry,  she  could  not  speak,  she  stood  pale  and 
motionless,  while  her  mother  and  Laura 
thought  for  her  what  could  be  done.  They 
proposed  immediately  that  they  should  go  to 
Mrs.  Cole,  and  that  Rosamond  should  tell  her 
exactly  what  had  passed;  but  Bessy  Bell 
said,  their  going  to  her  house  in  town  would 
be  of  no  use,  for  that  she  had  left  London  this 
morning  early.  And  then  Mrs.  White  in- 
creased Rosamond1  s  sorrow  by  saying  that 
little  Bessy  Bell  was  to  have  gone  with  Mrs. 
Cole  to  the  country,  to  Devonshire,  to  me  sea, 
and  that  every  thing  had  been  arranged  for 
the  journey — '  and  clothes  and  books  even, 
ma'am,  bought  for  her ;  see  there  ! '    pointing 


ROSAMOND.  39 

to  a  little  trunk  half  packed  up,  '  but  all  is 
over  now.' 

'  Bessy,  why  did  not  you  tell  Mrs.  Cole,' 
said  Laura,  '  what  you  have  told  us ;  and 
why  did  not  you  assure  her  that  the  falsehoods, 
which  have  been  reported,  did  not  come  from 
you?' 

j  'I  did,  ma'am  ;  but  I  could  not  deny  that 
there  was  some  part  of  the  story  true.  I  could 
not  deny  that  I  had  talked  foolishly,  and  that 
I  had  told  some  part  of  what  was  repeated. 
This  vexed  her  exceedingly,  as  well  it  might; 
and  she  did  not  perhaps  believe  me,  or  per- 
haps she  did  not  hear  the  rest  of  what  I  was 
saying,  to  explain  to  her  that  I  did  not  say 
all  the  horrible  things  that  were  reported.  O ! 
she  was  very  much  vexed.' 

'  Aye.'  said  Mrs.  White,  \  the  only  fault 
Mrs.  Cole  has  upon  earth  is  the  being  a  little 
too  touchy  and  hasty.' 

'•  Pray,  pray,  don't  say  any  thing  more 
about  that ! '  cried  little  Bessy,  '  because  Mrs. 
Cole  has  been  so  very  kind  to  me ;  she  has 
taught  me  every  thing  good  in  the  world  that 
I  know,  and  she  has  given  me  almost  every 
thing  I  have,  and  she  has  been  a  mother  to 
me ;  i  was  an  orphan,  and  starving  when  she 
first  took  me  in.  O  ! '  said  the  child,  kneeling 
down  again,  and  hiding  her  face  on  the  chair, 
'  I  have  been  very,  very  ungrateful,  and  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself 

1  Poor  Rosamond  ! '  said  Laura. 

Rosamond's  mother   forebore  to  reproach 


40 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


her  for  her  imprudence.  It  was  plain  that 
the  reproaches  of  her  own  heart,  at  this  mo- 
ment, were  sufficiently  acute;  but  what  was 
to  be  done  to  repair  the  evil  ?  Mrs.  Cole  was 
to  stay  in  Devonshire  two  months  at  least.  It 
was  proposed  that  Rosamond  should  write  to 
her ;  she  did  so,  and  gave  as  clear  a  statement 
of  the  facts  as  she  could,  and  as  pathetic  a 
petition  in  favor  of  the  orphan. 

During  the  days  that  elapsed,  before  an 
answer  to  this  letter  could  be  received,  Rosa- 
mond suffered  bitterly  ;  nor  did  the  answer, 
when  it   arrived,    relieve   her    mind.      Mrs. 


ROSAMOND.  41 

Cole's  physicians  had  advised  her,  instead  of 
staying  in  Devonshire,  to  proceed  imediately 
to  the  Continent  for  her  health ;  and  she  was 
on  the  point  of  sailing,  when  she  wrote  a  short, 
hurried  answer  to  Rosamond's  petition.  She 
regretted,  she  said,  the  mistakes  and  misrep- 
resentations that  had  occurred.  She  wished 
that  it  was  now  in  her  power  to  take  the  child 
with  her,  but  it  was  impossible  she  could  de- 
lay her  voyage ;  and  she  could  only  hope  that, 
when  she  should  return  to  England,  in  the 
course  of  six  or  seven  months,  she  should  be 
able  to  take  Bessy  Bell  again  ;  in  the  mean 
time,  she  desired  that  Bessy  might  remain 
with  Mrs.  White.  The  letter  concluded  with 
a  kind  message  of  forgiveness  to  the  child,  and 
of  regret  for  her  disappointment. 

This  message  was  some  consolation  to  Ro- 
samond. But  still  she  felt  very  unhappy,  till 
a  bright  idea  darted  across  her  imagination,  a 
generous  project,  which,  if  she  could  but  ex- 
ecute, would  turn  all  her  sorrow  into  joy.  She 
asked  her  mother  if  she  would  give  her  leave 
to  have  Bessy  Bell,  and  to  take  care  of  her 
while  Mrs.  Cole  was  away.  But  her  mother 
did  not  approve  of  her  plan.  Changing  sud- 
denly from  the  tone  of  delight  in  which  she 
had  made  the  request,  Rosamond  exclaimed, 
'  O,  mother  !  what  objections  can  you  have?' 

1  Several,  my  dear,  on  the  child's  own  ac- 
count, and  with  respect  to  Mrs.  Cole,  who 
has  desired  that  her  pupil  should  remain  with 

VOL.  II.      4 


42  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Mrs.  White.     But  my  chief  objection  is  on 
your  own  account.' 

1  My  own  account !  O,  my  dear  mother, 
nothing  in  this  world  could  make  me  so  hap- 

py-' 

I  Yes,  my  dear,  I  know  that,  to  your  kind 
heart  and  generous  temper,  it  would  be  a 
great  pleasure  to  do  all  this — it  would  be  as 
great  a  reward  as  I  could  give  you.  But, 
Rosamond,  do  you  think  you  deserve  to  be 
rewarded  ? ' 

I I  acknowledge  that  I  do  not,'  said  Rosa- 
mond ;  l  but  have  not  I  been  punished  enough, 
mother?  I  see  so  strongly  the  bad  conse- 
quences of  my  folly  and  imprudence,  I  cannot 
be  more  convinced  than  I  am,  nor  more  re- 
solved never  to  fall  into  the  same  fault  again. 
All  that  I  have  felt  has  made  such  a  deep  im- 
pression upon  me,  I  never,  never  can  forget  it.' 

1  Do  you  recollect  your  former  good  resolu- 
tions, my  dear  Rosamond,'  said  her  mother, 
1  and  the  deep  impression  made  by  reading 
that  affecting  story  ? ' 

'  I  do,  mother,'  said  Rosamond,  coloring ; 
1  and1 1  cannot  conceive  how  I  could  ever  for- 
get it,  when  I  was  so  very  much  struck  and 
touched  by  it,  and  so  resolved  !  But,'  added 
she,  after  a  pause,  '  I  do  not  mean  it  as  an 
excuse ;  but  I  may  say  that  I  do  not  know,  at 
least  I  was  not  quite  sure  that  it  was  a  true 
story ;  and  certainly  no  story  can  make  such 
an  impression  as  what  is  true,  and  especially 
what  really  has  happened  to  oneself 


ROSAMOND.  43 

1  And  why,  Rosamond  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  V 
said  her  mother. 

'  If  you  please,  mother,  and  if  you  can.' 

'  One  reason,'  said  her  mother,  '  may  be 
that  the  consequences  of  our  actions  last  long- 
er in  real  life  than  in  fiction.  The  moral  of 
a  story  is  read  or  perceived  in  three  or  four 
minutes ;  the  consequences  of  our  own  actions 
last  often  for  months,  for  years.  If  they  did 
not,  perhaps  we  should  forget  them,  and  profit 
as  little  by  experience,  even  by  our  own  ex- 
perience, as  by  good  advice,  or  good  stories.' 

'  O,  mother,  what  a  reproach  ! '  said  Rosa- 
mond. 

'  My  love,  I  do  not  reproach,  or  wish  to 
give  you  pain ;  but  I  speak  seriously,  because, 
Rosamond,  you  are  no  longer  a  child,  and 
you  must  consider  not  only  the  present  but 
the  future.  I  know  it  is  your  sincere  wish  to 
correct  your  own  faults  and  to  make  yourself 
an  amiable  woman.  This  habit  of  exaggera- 
tion, of  repeating  every  thing  you  hear,  is  not 
easily  broken  ;  it  is  a  fault  to  which  we  wo- 
men are,  it  is  said,  peculiarly  liable,  because 
we  have  fewer  subjects  of  importance  to  en- 
gage our  thoughts,  and  we  come  frequently 
into  those  little  competitions  and  rivalships, 
which  lead  to  envy  and  jealousy,  and  thence 
to  detraction  and  slander.  Lively  people, 
who  can  entertain  by  mimicry,  or  exaggerated 
description,  are,  of  all  others,  the  most  expos- 
ed to  continually  recurring  temptation  on  that 
subject ;  and  you,  Rosamond,  should  therefore 


44  EARLY   LESSONS. 

watch  over  yourself.  Now  I  will  say  no 
more,  my  dear  daughter ;  judge  and  decide  for 
yourself.' 

'  Temptations  will  recur,'  repeated  Rosa- 
mond. '  Yes,  I  know  they  will,  when  I  am 
again  in  company,  mother,  where  example 
encourages  me,  and  the  wish  to  amuse.  O,  I 
know  all  the  difficulties !  and  I  am  convinced 
that  it  is  better  that  all  my  sorrow  should  not 
be  turned  to  joy  immediately,  or  else  perhaps 
I  should,  as  you  say  quite  forget  it.  Well, 
my  dear  mother,  I  will  prove  to  you  that  I  am 
in  earnest  resolved  to  make  myself  an  ami- 
able woman ; — I  submit ;  I  give  up  my  scheme. 
I  am  only  sorry  for  Bessy  Bell ;  but  it  will  do 
me  good  for  life,  I  am  almost  sure.  It  will  be 
a  great  punishment  to  know  and  recollect 
every  day  that  this  poor  girl  is  suffering  from 
my  imprudence,'  said  Rosamond,  in  a  falter- 
ing voice  ;  '  but  let  it  be  so.' 

Her  mother  was  so  well  satisfied,  not  only 
with  the  candor,  but  with  the  resolution  which 
Rosamond  showed  by  this  determination,  that 
she  mitigated  the  punishment  by  giving  her 
permission  that  Bessy  Bell  might  come  to  her 
every  morning  for  one  hour.  It  was  settled 
that  this  must  not  interfere  with  any  of- Rosa- 
mond's own  lessons  or  daily  duties.  The 
time  fixed  was,  as  she  had  proposed,  an  hour 
before  breakfast.  And,  to  Rosamond's  credit, 
be  it  recorded  that,  well  as  she  loved  sleeping 
late,  she  was  regularly  up  in  good  time,  and 
never,  even  for  a  single  morning,  missed  hear- 


ROSAMOND. 


45 


ing  this  child  read,  seeing  her  work,  and  at- 
tending to  that  she  had  learned. 

Bessy  Bell  was  sweet-tempered  and  docile, 
and  her  gratitude  might  be  depended  upon, 
because  she  was  grateful,  not  only  to  Rosa- 
mond, but  to  the  benefactress  who  was  at  a 
distance,  of  whom  she  often  spoke  with  great 
affection,  and  about  whose  health  she  express- 
ed great  anxiety. 

At  last,  happily  for  this  child  and  for  Rosa- 
mond, Mrs.  Cole  recovered,  returned  to  Eng- 
land, and  sent  for  Bessy  Bell,  who  went  to 


46  EARLY   LESSONS. 

her  and  was   received  by  her  benefactress 
again  with  all  her  former  kindness. 

Nothing  more  is  to  be  known  concerning 
Mrs.  Cole  and  Bessy  Bell ;  but  we  have  the 
pleasure  to  assure  all,  who  are  interested  for 
Rosamond,  that  the  pain  which  she  endured, 
in  consequence  of  the  imprudence  of  which 
she  had  been  guilty,  made  a  lasting  and  use- 
ful impression  upon  her  mind.  Whenever 
she  was  tempted  to  tell  an  ill-natured  anec- 
dote, to  amuse  or  to  produce  surprise  or  effect, 
she  recollected  Bessy  Bell,  checked  herself, 
and  carefully  refrained  from  any  exaggera- 
tion, andffrom  all  Petty  Scandal. 


AIRS  AND  GRACES. 

"DOSAMOND  had  now  arrived  at  that  age 
-"'  when  girls  are  considered  neither  quite 
as  children  nor  quite  as  women.  She  became 
very  desirous  to  please  and  anxious  about  her 
appearance  and  manners.  Her  mother  was 
in  London  ;  and  Rosamond,  though  she  was 
much  too  young  to  go  out,  as  it  is  called,  had 
opportunity  of  seeing  at  her  mother's,  and  of 
meeting  at  different  houses,  many  young  com- 
panions. Uncertain  which  of  their  manners 
she  liked  best,  or  what  would  best  become 
her,  she  tried  a  great  variety  ;  sometimes 
catching  involuntarily,  sometimes  purposely 
imitating,  every  new  tone,  look,  gesture,  and 


ROSAMOND. 


47 


mode  of  expression  of  those  whom  she  heard 
admired,  or  whom  she  thought  pretty,  grace- 
ful, or  fashionable.  In  consequence  of  these 
imitations  and  changes  of  manner,  Rosamond 
had  become  a  little,  perhaps  not  a  little,  affec- 
ted. 

About  this  time  her  brother  Godfrey,  who 
had  been  at  school,  returned  to  spend  the 
holidays  at  home. 

Onetnorning,  a  few  days  after  his  arrival, 
he  found  Rosamond  alone,  practising  attitudes 
before  a  large  mirror. 

'  I  am  practising ;  I  am  going  to  practise 
my  chasse   for   the   quadrille   this   evening, 


48  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Godfrey, '  said  she.  '  You  have  never  seen 
me  dance  since  I  learned  quadrilles.  I'll 
show  you  my  steps.' 

'  Do  so,'  said  Godfrey  ;  '  but  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  not  do  as  well  for  you  as  the  glass.' 

'  Never  mind,  you'll  do  very  well ;  better 
indeed,  for  you  can  speak  to  me,'  said  Rosa- 
mond. 

And  then,  in  the  hope  of  surprising  and  de- 
lighting him,  '  she  ran  her  female  exercises 
o'er,'  displaying  all  her  newly  acquired  airs 
and  graces. 

Godfrey,  when  she  stopped  to  take  breath, 
and  when  she  looked  towards  him  with  mod- 
est expectation  of  applause,  sang,  in  a  mock 
tone  of  rapture,  the  words  of  an  old  song, — 

With  an  air  and  a  grace, 
And  a  shape  and  a  face, 
She  charms  like  beauty's  goddess. 

Rosamond  was  not  quite  pleased  with  God- 
frey's tone  the  first  time  he  sang  her  praises ; 
but  when,  at  each  pause,  as  her  eye  involun- 
tarily turned  upon  him  for  approbation,  he 
re-commenced  the  same  song,  she  was  no 
longer  able  to  conceal  her  disappointment, 
and,  in  a  tone  of  vexation,  she  exclaimed, — 
'  Godfrey,  I  do  wish  you  would  not  sing  so ! ' 

'  And  suppose  I  was  to  answer,  Rosamond, 
I  do  wish  you  would  not  dance  so ! ' 

'  How,  brother?'  asked  Rosamond. 

'  This  way,'  replied  he,  imitating  the  affec- 
ted turns  of  the  head,  and  all  her  favorite 
grimaces,  in  a  ludicrous  manner. 


ROSAMOND.  49 

c  How  very  odd  !  how  very  awkward  ! '  said 
Rosamond,  half  laughing.  '  To  be  sure  no- 
body could  like  to  see  any  body  dance  so.' 

4  That  was  just  what  I  was  thinking,'  said 
Godfrey. 

'  But,  my  dear  Godfrey,  I  don't  dance  in 
that  ridiculous  way.' 

'  Are  you  sure  that  my  way  is  at  all  more 
ridiculous  than  yours  ? '  said  Godfrey. 

'  I  can  only  assure  you,'  said  Rosamond, 
with  a  little  conceited  motion  of  her  head,  and 
with  a  look  and  tone  of  decided  superiority, 
'  I  must  only  beg  leave  to  assure  you,  brother, 
that  my  way  was  learned  from  somebody, 
who  is  not  thought  at  all  ridiculous,  but  who 
is  universally  admired.' 

'  Universally  admired  !  Who  can  that 
be?' 

i  One  whom  M.  Deschamps  called  La  reine 
des  sylphes.  Lady  Cecilia  Bouverie's  niece 
too — Susanetta  Manners.' 

'  Susanetta  Manners  !  Before  I  went  to 
school,  did  not  I  know  one  Susan  Manners  ? ' 

f  One  Susan  Manners !  such  a  way  of  speak- 
ing! Yes,  you  did  know  her,  Godfrey,  and 
you  thought  her  very  pretty ;  but  she  is  much 
prettier  now,  since  she  has  been  in  Paris  and 
Italy.' 

'  But  how  comes  she  to  have  turned  into 
Susanetta?'  said  Godfrey. 

1  Not  turned  at  all,'  replied  Rosamond ;  <  but 
Susanetta  is  the  Italian  for  Susan  ;  little  Su-- 

VOL.  II.       5 


50  EARLY   LESSONS. 

san,  the  Italian  diminutive,  you  know.  She 
was  always  Susanetta  in  Italy.' 

'  But  why  not  Susan  in  England?'  said  the 
downright  Godfrey,  with  a  look  of  stupidi- 
ty. 

1  O,  I  don't  know,  because  Susanetta  is  so 
much  prettier,  and  shows  she  has  been  abroad. 
She  learned  to  dance  from  M.  Deschamps  in 
Paris ;  and  she,  like  a  dear  creature  as  she  is, 
taught  me  all  her  steps,  and  the  right  way  of 
doing  every  thing.  So  you  need  not  laugh  at 
me,  Godfrey.' 

c  Well,  I  will  be  serious ;  you  know  I  am 
but  an  ignoramus. ,  Let  me  see  you  do  it 
again,'  said  Godfrey ;  '  encore  !  encore  ! ' 

With  all  the  simplicity,  all  the  credulity  of 
vanity,  Rosamond  re-commenced  her  dance, 
•  exhibiting  new  graces  for  Godfrey,  who,  she 
hoped,  was  now  really  in  admiration,  for  he 
was  quite  silent  and  profoundly  attentive; 
till,  just  at  the  moment  when  the  favorite 
turn  of  the  neck,  at  the  end  of  chasse,  came, 
he  burst  forth  again, — 

With  an  air  and  a  grace, 
And  a  shape  and  a  face, 
She  charmed  like  heauty's  god-dess. 

bowing  when  he  came  to  the  flourish  in  the 
middle  of  goddess.  He  sang  in  so  rude  and 
insulting  a  strain,  that  Rosamond,  stopping 
in  the  midst  of  her  dance,  exclaimed,  '  In- 
deed, Godfrey,  you  put  me  out  entirely ;  I  can 
not  do  my  chasse. 

M  am  only  admiring  you,  my  dear,  to  the 


ROSAMOND.  51 

best  of  my  ability  ;  I  thought  you  wanted  to 
be  admired.' 

1  No,  I  do  not  in  the  least  want  you  to  ad- 
mire me,  Godfrey,'  said  Rosamond;  'only  do 
not  put  me  out  with  that  odious  beauty's  god- 
dess.' 

'  What  can  beauty's  goddess  have  to  do 
with  your  chasse  V 

i  I  don't  say  that  it  has  any  thing  to  do 
with  it ;  but — ' 

At  this  moment  Laura,  opening  the  folding- 
doors  of  the  front  drawing-room,  told  Rosa- 
mond that  she  was  ready  to  play  for  her,  if 
she  was  ready  to  dance. 

'  I  am  quite  ready,'  said  Rosamond,  c  if 
Godfrey  will  be  quiet.  Now,  brother,  do 
pray,'  added  she,  turning  to  him  with  a  look 
and  tone  of  affected  distress,  '  when  I  tell  you 
it  really  annoys  me  so.' 

'  It  really  annoys  you  so,'  repeated  Godfrey. 
1  An-noys  me  !  I  wish  I  could  say  annoy  with 
that  pretty  turn  of  my  head,  that  sweet  close 
of  my  eyelids,  and  that  languid  drawl  of  my 
voice.  Rosamond,  could  you  teach  me,  do 
you  think  1  Look  now,  is  this  it  %  It  an-noys 
me  so.' 

'  Pray,  Godfrey,  do  not  be  so  provoking,  so 
foolish,'  said  Rosamond.  '  Did  you  never 
hear  the  word  annoy  before  ?  Every  body 
says  annoy,  I  assure  you ;  and,  if  you  had 
not  been  at  school,  you  would  have  learned  it 
too.     But,'  continued  she,  '  there  is  poor,  dear 


52  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Laura  playing  II  Pastorale  for  me,  wasting 
her  music  on  the  desert  air.' 

1 II  Pastorale  !  Poor,  dear  Laura,  wasting 
her  sweetness  on  the  desert  air  ! '  repeated 
Godfrey.  '  How  fine  !  I  wish  I  could  talk  so. 
How  I  have  wasted  my  time  at  school  !  O 
YirgillOvid!  Homer!  Horace!  Caesar!  and 
all  your  commentaries  !  where  are  you  now  ? 
What  are  you  all  to  this  ? ' 

'  It  is  too  much,  Godfrey  !  I  cannot  bear 
it ! '  cried  Rosamond.  She  run  to  the  piano- 
forte, and,  stopping  Laura's  hand,  '  Stop,  and 
hear  me/  said  she.  '  Now,  Laura,  I  appeal 
to  you ;  when  I  have  not  seen  Godfrey  for 
such  a  length  of  time,  and  when  I  expected 
such  pleasure,  you  know,  from  his  coming 
home  at  his  holidays,  is  it  kind  of  him,  is  not 
it  cruel  of  him,  when  I  was  doing  all  I  could 
to  please  him  too ;  is  not  it  very  ill-natured 
of  him  to  laugh  at  me,  and  sing  at  me,  and 
mimic  me  V 

Laura  was  going  to  speak,  but  Godfrey  put 
his  hand  before  her  mouth. 

'  Ha  !  my  own  dear  little  sister  Rosamond  ! 
Now  I  hear  your  own  voice  again ;  now  I  see 
you  yourself  again ;  and  now  I  love  you  with 
all  my  heart.' 

'  Love  me ! '  said  Rosamond,  and  tears 
would  have  flowed,  but  pride  struggled  and 
repressed  them. 

1  My  dear,  dear  Rosamond,'  cried  Godfrey, 
1  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  that  is  the 
very  reason  I  cannot   bear  to  see  you  any 


ROSAMOND.  53 

thing  but  what  you  really  are — so  be  my  own 
dear  Rosamond.7 

'  Well !  am  not  I  your  own  dear  Rosa- 
mond ? ' 

'  Now  you  are.' 

1 1  am  sure  I  am  the  same  to  you.  Godfrey ; 
I  love  you  as  well  as  ever,'  said  Rosamond. 

1  But  I  cquld  not  love  you  as  well  as  ever,' 
said  Godfrey,  '  if — ' 

'  If  what 1 '  said  Rosamond.  '  Now  finish 
your  sentence.' 

'  Well,  then,  if  you  were  to  have  all  those 
airs  and  graces  that  you  have  lately  learned, 
I  could  not  like  you  so  well,  Rosamond.  You 
can't  think  how  the  boys  at  school  hate  all 
affectation;  and  I  would  not  for  any  thing 
have  a  sister  of  mine  affected  ! ' 

'  I  am  sure,  Godfrey,  I  am  not  affected.  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean  by  affectation. 
Nobody  hates  affectation  more  than  I  do.' 

'  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,'  replied  Godfrey. 
1  But,  if  you  hate  it  so  much,  you  must  ac- 
knowledge that  you  know  what  I  mean  by  it, 
else  you  say  you  hate  you  don't  know  what. 
You  see,  my  dear,  I  have  not  been  at  school 
and  learned  logic  for  nothing.' 

'  Indeed  I  see  you  have  not  been  at  school 
for  nothing,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  you  have 
learned  to  triumph  over,  and  laugh  at  your 
poor  little  sister.' 

'  Come,  come,  I  will  triumph  over  you  no 
more,  Rosamond,'  said  Godfrey,  kissing  her 
affectionately.     '  Here  is  my  hand,  I  promise 


54  EARLY   LESSONS. 

you  I  will  not  laugh  at  you  any  more,  if  you 
will  be  your  own  dear  self — only  promise  me 
that' 

Rosamond,  though  now  touched  by  her 
brother's  tone  of  tenderness  and  affection,  felt 
some  remains  of  resentment  for  his  former 
irony,  and  had  a  strong  desire  to  make  him 
retract  his  charge  of  affectation,  on  which 
point  she  was  perhaps  the  more  nice,  from  a 
secret  consciousness  that  there  was  some  truth 
in  the  reproach.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  but 
not  quite  cordially. 

1  Upon  condition,  brother,'  said  she,  '  that 
you  will  never  say  I  am  affected  any  more.' 

'  Upon  condition,  Rosamond,  that  you  will 
never  be  affected  any  more,'  said  Godfrey. 

'  But  who  is  to  be  judge?'  said  Rosamond  ; 
'we  shall  never  agree.' 

'  Will  you  agree  that  Laura  shall  be  judge?' 
said  Godfrey. 

'  With  all  my  heart,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  for 
I  am  sure  she  never  thought  me  affected — did 
you  Laura?1 

A  slight  downcast  look,  and  a  playful  smile 
upon  Laura's  countenance,  prevented  Rosa- 
mond from  repeating  her  question ;  but  God- 
frey pressed  for  an  answer. 

'  Now  do,  Laura,  answer,  that  Rosamond 
may  be  convinced  I  am  not  unjust,  and  that 
it  is  not  all  my  fancy,  and  that  I  am  not  so 
very  hard  upon  her.  Now,  Laura,  can  you 
say  that  you  never  thought  her  affected?' 

'  No,  I  cannot  say  that,'  replied  Laura;  '  1 


ROSAMOND.  55 

acknowledge  I  have  seen  her  sometimes,  lately, 
appear  a  little  affected ;  but  I  don't  think  she 
is  really  so,  that  is,  I  don't  think  she  has  the 
habit  of  affectation.  She  has  caught  looks, 
and  manners,  and  ways,  from  different  peo- 
ple.' 

'  O  yes,  I  know..  I  acknowledge,  Laura, 
you  told  me  of  that,  but  in  such  a  different 
way  from  Godfrey — ' 

■  That  it  did  you  no  good,  you  find,'  said 
Godfrey,  laughing. 

'  No,  no,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  but  the  truth 
is,  I  imitate  them  often  without  intending  it, 
and  I  really  don't  always  know  when  I  do  it. 
If  you  would  tell  me  at  the  minute — ' 

'  Then,  my  dear,'  said  Godfrey,  '  I  will  tell 
you  whenever  you  do  it  and  don't  know  it. 
I'll  always  sing — 

With  an  air  and  a  grace,  &c.' 

1  But  you  cannot  sing  in  company,  you 
know,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  But  I  could  hum  in  a  low  tone,  just  loud 
enough  for  you,  and  nobody  else  to  hear.' 

'  No,  you  could  not  hum  ;  that  will  never 
do,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Well,  then,  just  the  two  words,  Beauty's 
Goddess !  will  do.' 

'  No — beauty's  goddess — nonsense  !  how 
could  you  bring  them  in  ? '  said  Rosamond. 

'  Trust  to  my  ingenuity  for  that,'  said  God- 
frey ;  '  or,  without  my  saying  a  word,  this 
look,  Rosamond,  will  put  you  in  mind,  and 


56  EARLY   LESSONS. 

you  will  comprehend  my  meaning,  I  will 
answer  for  it' 

Pleased  to  see  his  power  over  Rosamond, 
eager  to  exercise  it,  and  flattering  himself  that 
his  only  motive  was  the  wish  to  do  his  sister 
good,  Godfrey  spared  no  opportunity  of  sing- 
ing, humming,  saying,  Beauty's  Goddess, 
calling  up  his  warning  look.  Rosamond  felt 
sometimes  ashamed,  sometimes  vexed.  Often 
she  appealed  in  private  to  Laura,  who  endea- 
vored, as  kindly  and  gently  as  she  could,  to 
do  justice  between  them,  and  neither  to  flat- 
ter Rosamond,  nor  to  indulge  Godfrey  in  his 
love  of  power,  and  habit  of  teasing.  Rosa- 
mond sincerely  wished  to  please  her  brother, 
and  as  earnestly  wishing  to  avoid  his  dreaded 
ridicule,  laid  aside,  in  the  course  of  a  fortnight, 
most  of  the  little  affected  habits  of  which  she 
was  conscious  ;  but  still  there  were  some  re- 
maining to  which  she  adhered,  either  because 
they  had  grown  habitual,  and  she  was  there- 
fore unconscious  of  them,  or  because  she 
thought  that  they  were  too  becoming,  and  too 
like  some  fashionable  and  charming  model,  to 
be  hastily  abandoned,  even  in  complaisance 
to  Godfrey.  She  thought  he  might  not  be  a 
perfect  judge  of  fashion  and  manner,  and  that 
he  might  be  a  little  prejudiced,  a  little  per- 
verse, and  perhaps  a  little  capricious. 

One  instance  of  what  she  thought  caprice 
in  him,  she  keenly  felt.  In  consequence  of 
his  dislike  and  ridicule  of  what  he  had  called 
the  twist,  and  she  the  turn,  of  her  head  in  the 


ROSAMOND.  57 

quadrille,  she  had  taken  pains  to  alter  it,  and 
had  abandoned  various  attitudes  and  graces 
of  the  dance  which  she  had  learned  from  Su- 
sanetta,  the  queen  of  the  sylphs ;  Godfrey  had 
thanked  her  and  approved  of  her,  and  had 
declared  he  liked  her  own  natural  style  of 
dancing  a  thousand  times  better. 

She  was,  or  she  endeavored  to  be,  satisfied 
with  his  being  pleased,  though  it  was  some 
sacrifice,  she  thought,  to  give  up  what  others 
admired  so  much.  But  Godfrey  had  not  seen 
Susanetta's  dancing,  till  one  night  when  he 
met  her  at  a  children's  ball,  where  she  was 
acknowledged  to  be  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
room.  Rosamond  heard  some  mothers  near 
her  wish  that  their  daughters  could  dance 
like  Miss  Susanetta  Manners  ;  and  many 
gentlemen  exclaimed,  '  Graceful,  beautiful  lit- 
tle creature  !  certainly  she  dances  inimitably ! ' 
Inimitably !  Now,  thought  Rosamond,  I  could 
imitate  that  exactly,  and  did ;  but  I  gave  it 
up  because  Godfrey  called  it  affectation.  Yet 
there  he  is,  admiring  it,  after  all. 

At  the  first  convenient  opportunity,  when 
she  and  her  brother  were  together,  Rosamond 
reproached  him  with  his  inconsistency. 

'  So,  Godfrey,  after  all,  I  saw  you  admiring 
Susanetta's  dancing  last  night.' 

'  Certainly,'  said  he ;  '  she  dances  very  well.' 

'  Very  well !  So  I  told  you,'  said  Rosa- 
mond. 

'  I  am  happy  to  agree  with  you,  sister,' 
said  Godfrey. 


58  EARLY   LESSONS. 

1  Happy  to  disagree  with  me,  you  mean ; 
else  why  did  you  laugh  at  me  for  the  very 
same  way  of  dancing  that  you  admire  in 
Miss  Manners '? ' 

'  It  did  not  appear  to  me  the  same,'  said 
Godfrey. 

'  But  .it  was  the  same,  I  assure  you  ;  I  imi- 
tated her  exactly,  though  some  people  say  she 
is  inimitable,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  By  your  own  account  there  was  one  great 
difference.' 

'  Great  difference  !     What  1 ' 

'  That  one  was  original,  and  the  other  imi- 
tation,' said  Godfrey. 

'  Ah  !  there  was  my  folly  in  telling  you  that 
I  imitated  her,'  said  Rosamond ;  '  if  I  had  not 
told  it  to  you,  you  never  could  have  found  it 
out' 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  Rosamond ;  I  should 
have  found  it  out  immediately.' 

'  You  !  so  little  used  to  dancing  !  pretend 
to  be  such  a  judge  !  such  a  connoisseur  !  If 
this  is  not  affectation  ! '  cried  Rosamond — '  I 
only  wish  that  Laura  was  here,  that  I  might 
appeal  to  her.' 

'  Without  appealing  to  any  body,  try  me, 
not  only  as  to  your  dancing,  but  as  to  your 
manners  in  general,  and  I  will  tell  you  from 
whom  you  imitate  various  tones,  and  twists, 
and  words,  and  even  thoughts.' 

Rosamond  doubted  whether  he  could  do 
so,  but  not  much-  liking  to  put  him  to  the 
proof,  she  passed  over  his  offer  hastily,  and 


ROSAMOND.  59 

said,  c  Well,  but  suppose  I  did  imitate  those 
people,  what  then  1  Where  is  the  shame  1 
Where  is  the  harm  V 

1  The  shame  is  in  your  cheeks  at  this  mo- 
ment ;  you  blush  to  be  found  out,'  said  God- 
frey. 

'  At  being  suspected,'  said  Rosamond.  '  But 
still  I  don't  know  the  harm  of  copying  what 
I  think  engaging  or  graceful  in  others.' 

'  Only  the  chance  of  making  yourself  ridic- 
ulous and  disagreeable,'  replied  Godfrey. 

'  But  why  disagreeable  ?  Why  ridiculous  1 
Why  should  that  be  disagreeable  in  me,'  said 
Rosamond,  •  which  is  thought  agreeable  in 
another  ?     I  come  round  to  my  first  question.' 

i  And  I  to  my  first  answer,'  said  Godfrey; 
1  that  one  is  original  and  the  other  imitation ; 
and  I  detest  all  imitations,  of  manners  at  least.' 

'  But  still  your  detesting  them  is  no  reason,' 
said  Rosamond. 

'  Every  body  detests  them  ! '  cried  Godfrey. 

1  That,  begging  your  pardon,  is  a  mistake,' 
said  Rosamond,  '  for  many  people  have  liked 
and  admired  in  me  the  very  same  things  that 
you  detest.  So  you  see  there  is  no  disputing 
about  tastes.  But  why  do  you  detest  imita- 
tions 1  Now,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  as 
you  say,  Godfrey,  suppose  that  you  were  one 
of  the  persons  who  did  not  find  out  the  differ- 
ence, why  should  not  my  dancing,  or  my 
manner,  in  all  those  little  things  that  you  dis- 
like, be  as  agreeable  as  the  originals,  if  the 
imitation  is  quite  perfect.' 


60  EARLY   LESSONS. 

£  But  I  tell  you  there  is  always  this  differ- 
ence, that  one  is  natural  and  the  other  affec- 
ted ;  and  though  some  few  may  be  taken 
in  for  a  time,  it  is  always  found  out  at 
last.' 

1  And,  when  it  is  found  out,  why  is  it  dis- 
agreeable,' persisted  Rosamond. 

'  O,  you  are  arguing  in  a  circle,'  cried  God- 
frey, impatiently. 

'  We  are,'  said  Rosamond,  '  and  I  can't  help 
it.' 

'  And  I  can't  bear  it,'  said  Godfrey;  '  so  I 
am  off.' 

Rosamond  felt  that  she  was  not  convinced 
by  any  thing  he  had  said,  and  saw  that  he 
went  off  because  he  was  not  able  to  explain 
himself  farther,  or  to  give  her  any  farther 
reason  or  answer  to  her  questions.  She,  after 
this  conversation,  became  much  less  submis- 
sive to  his  opinion,  and  even  withstood  his 
ridicule,  in  a  manner  that  surprised  him. 
Sometimes  she  relapsed,  as  he  said,  into  her 
former  follies,  and  then  he  exerted  all  his  wit 
and  power  over  her,  not  only  to  cure  her,  as 
he  professed,  but  to  prove  that  he  was  in  the 
right,  and  to  obtain  the  victory.  Rosamond 
at  last  became  quite  puzzled,  and  her  man- 
ners suddenly  altered,  and  grew  constrained 
and  awkward,  especially  when  Godfrey  was 
present.  When  he  was  out  of  the  room  she 
was  more  at  her  ease,  but  her  manner  was 
not  more  natural  or  agreeable,  because,  when 
relieved  from  his  observation,   and  from  the 


ROSAMOND.  61 

fear  of  his  laughing  at  her,  she  took  the  op- 
portunity of  trying  experiments  on  new  graces, 
which  she  found,  or  fancied  she  found,  suc- 
ceeded with  new  spectators. 

All  this  had  not  passed  unobserved  by  her 
mother,  who,  one  morning  at  breakfast,  took 
notice  of  some  sudden  change  in  Rosamond's 
look  and  manner  when  Godfrey  came  into  the 
room,  and  asked  her  to  explain  the  cause  of 
her  sudden  silence,  reserve,  and  constraint. 
Rosamond,  blushing,  and  seeming  yet  more 
constrained  and  embarrassed,  said  only,  she 
was  sorry,  but  she  could  not  help  feeling  awk- 
ward sometimes.  This  answer  not  being  sat- 
isfactory, Godfrey  could  not  forbear  smiling  ; 
but  then,  Rosamond's  discomfiture  increas- 
ing, and  Laura  looking  at  him  reproachfully, 
he  became  serious,  and  a  very  awkward  si- 
lence ensued  for  at  least  five  minutes,  which 
appeared,  to  the  parties  concerned,  of  incalcu- 
lable length.  Indeed,  Rosamond  doubted 
whether  it  ever  would  end,  or  how,  or  who 
would  next  venture  to  speak ;  she  was  certain 
she  could  not,  she  hoped  Godfrey  would  not, 
and  she  wondered  Laura  did  not.  Laura  un- 
derstood her  wishes,  and  made  the  effort,  but 
what  she  said  will  never  reach  posterity,  as 
not  a  creature  present  heard  or  understood 
more,  than  that  it  was  some  observation  on 
hot  rolls. 

'  I  believe,  mother,'  exclaimed  Godfrey,  1 1 
am  the  cause  of  it  all ;  for  I  believe  I  have 
gone  too  far,  and  done  more  harm  than  good. 


62  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Poor  Rosamond  !  I  have  plagued  her  too 
much,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  it.' 

'  Well,  then,  if  you  are,  it's  all  over,'  said 
Rosamond ;  [  I  am  sure  I  forgive  you  with  all 
my  heart,  and  there  is  an  end  of  the  matter — 
only  don't  let  us  say  any  more  about  it.' 

:  My  dear  Rosamond/  said  her  father,  'I 
love  your  generous,  forgiving,  amiable  tem- 
per ;  it  is  particularly  amiable  in  a  woman  to 
be  ready  to  yield,  and  avoid  disputing  about 
trifles.  And  I  am  convinced  this  will  make 
your  brother  more  careful  not  to  tease  you, — 

And  trust,  my  dears,  good-humor  will  prevail, 

When  airs,  and  flights,  and  screams,  and  scoldings  fail. 

1  But,  father,'  said  Rosamond,  shrinking 
back  a  little  as  her  father  was  going  to  kiss 
her,  '  I  am  afraid  I  don't  quite  deserve  it,  for 
it  was  not  all,  or  only  good-humor  that  made 
me  in  such  a  hurry  to  forgive  Godfrey,  and 
that  made  me  say,  Let  us  say  no  more  about 
it ;  I  was  rather  ashamed  of  telling  before  you 
and  mother,  and  every  body,  all  about  it.' 

'  Who  do  you  mean  by  every  body,  Rosa- 
mond, my  dear,'  said  her  mother;  '  here  are 
only  your  father,  your  sister,  your  brothers, 
and  myself.  Which  of  us  stands  for  every 
body?' 

1  I  suppose  I  must  be  every  body,'  said  Or- 
lando, as  Rosamond  timidly  looked  towards 
him.  '  Since  I  am  such  a  terrific  person,  I'll 
go  away  as  soon  as  I  have  swallowed  this 
cup  of  tea.' 


ROSAMOND.  63 

'Pray  don't  go,  Orlando,'  said  Rosamond. 
1  It  is  better  for  me  that  you  should  stay ;  in- 
deed, my  dear  Orlando,  it  is  my  real  wish.' 

She  pressed  so  urgently  upon  his  shoulder, 
that  he  could  not  rise,  in  opposition  to  what 
he  felt  was  her  '  real  wish.' 

1  And  now,  my  dear,  go  on,'  said  her  father. 

'  You  must  know  then,'  said  Rosamond, 
'  that  Godfrey's  dispute  and  mine — I  mean 
Godfrey's  argument  and  mine — was  about 
affectation? 

It  seemed  to  be  with  some  shame  or  difficul- 
ty that  she  pronounced  the  word  affectation. 

'  Affectation,  my  dear,'  said  her  father,  '  is, 
after  all,  as  the  wise  and  indulgent  Locke  has 
observed,  only  a  mistaken  attempt  to  please.' 

'  Mistaken  indeed  ! '  cried  Orlando,  and  he 
spoke  with  a  tone  and  look  of  contempt,  which 
Rosamond  deeply  felt.  But  Orlando  was  so 
much  taken  up  with  his  own  thoughts,  that 
he  did  not  perceive  the  effect  of  his  words. 

'Well,  Rosamond,  go  on,'  said  her  father. 

1  As  soon  as  I  can — as  soon  as  I  can  recol- 
lect what  I  was  going  to  say  ;  I  do  not  know 
then  exactly  what  is  meant  by  affectation.'1 

1  Not  know  what  is  meant  by  affectation  ! ' 
cried  Orlando,  with  a  look  of  astonishment. 

'O,  Rosamond,  Rosamond  !'  said  Godfrey. 

'  Take  your  own  time,  Rosamond,'  said  her 
mother,  'your  father  will  hear  you  patiently.' 

'  That  I  will,  if  I  sit  here  till  dinner  time,' 
said  her  father. 

'  Heaven  forbid,'  thought  Godfrey,  making 


64  EARLY   LESSONS. 

some  sort  of  interjection  between  a  sigh  and 
a  groan  ;  but,  without  minding  him,  his  fa- 
ther attended  to  Rosamond. 

Rosamond  then,  determining  to  state  her 
old  difficulties  in  a  new  way,  and  to  keep  as 
far  from  Susanetta  as  possible,  began  again  in 
general  terms  : — '  People,  young  people,  are 
continually  told,  that  they  ought  to  have  a- 
greeable  manners.  But  when  young  people, 
girls  I  mean  particularly,  do  their  best  to  try 
to  have  these  agreeable  manners,  and  begin 
to  imitate  what  other  people  do,  they  are  told 
not  to  imitate,  and  are  laughed  at  for  being 
affected  ;  they  are  told  to  be  themselves,  and 
to  be  natural  ;  but  then  again,  I  don't  know 
what  is  meant  by  being  natural.' 

'  Then  you  must  be  a  natural,'  cried  God- 
frey. 

'  Gently,  Godfrey,'  said  his  mother,  '  that 
is  not  fair.' 

£  Go  on,  Rosamond,'  said  her  father,  in  an 
encouraging  tone,  '  I  would  rather  hear  rea- 
son than  wit  at  present.' 

'  It  is  not  natural,  it  is  not  born  with  us  to 
have  any  manner,  is  it?'  said  Rosamond. 
'  Even  to  use  our  knives  and  forks  in  the 
way  we  do,  or  to  make  a  bow  or  curtsy,  or 
in  our  ways  of  sitting  and  standing,  must  we 
not  imitate  others  ]  You  would  not  call  this 
affectation  3 ' 

1  Certainly  not,'  cried  all  present. 

'  In  all  these  things,'  said  her  father,  '  which 
depend  on  established  forms  and  usages,  we 


ROSAMOND.  05 

must  imitate  whatever  is  the  custom  or  fash- 
ion of  the  society  in  which  we  live.' 

1  So  I  say,  father ;  but  then  why  not  imitate 
other  things  in  manners,  which  are  just  as 
much  the  fashion.  But  if  one  begins  to  imi- 
tate any  pretty  ways,  motions,  words,  man- 
ners, even  of  those  who  are  most  admired, 
then  comes  the  outcry  against  affectation.' 

'  And  very  justly,  surely,'  said  Orlando. 

'  I  say  nothing,'  said  Godfrey. 

{  But  I  say,'  continued  Rosamond,  '  there 
is  my  great  difficulty,  father,  to  know  where 
wrong  imitation  begins,  and  where  right  imi- 
tation ends.' 

'  That  is  a  sensible  question,  and  not  easy 
to  answer,'  said  her  father ;  '  but  I  will  an- 
swer you  from  your  own  words.  As  long  as 
people  imitate  only  what  is  of  established 
form  and  custom  in  manners  they  are  not 
affected ;  when  they  begin  voluntarily  to  imi- 
tate pretty  motions  and  ways,  as  you  call 
them,  and  when  they  do  this  with  the  aim  of 
pleasing,  by  what  they  are  conscious  is  not 
their  own  manner,  there  they  are  affected.' 

'  And  why  should  we  not  imitate  what  is 
agreeable  in  others,  and  why  does  it  displease 
people  ) '  said  Rosamond.  '  If  the  things 
please  in  one  person,  why  should  they  not 
please  in  another  1 ' 

'  There  may  be  many  reasons  for  this,  Ro- 
samond ;  if  you  have  patience  to  hear  them 
all,  I  will  endeavor  to  explain  them.' 

VOL.  II.      6 


66  EARLY   LESSONS. 

1 1 !  0,  I  have  patience,'  said  Rosamond. 

1  In  the  first  place,  you  take  it  for  granted 
that  the  pretty  ways  imitated  are  really  agree- 
able ;  this  may  be  a  mistake ;  they  may  have 
pleased,  and  have  been  admired,  merely  be- 
cause they  belonged  to  some  pretty  person ; 
and,  when  they  are  imitated  by  one  less  pret- 
ty, they  may  not  only  have  no  longer  any 
power  to  please,  but  they  may  be  ridiculous.' 

1  The  very  truth  ! '  said  Godfrey,  '  though  I 
could  not  explain  it.' 

'  I  understand,'  said  Rosamond;  'but  sup- 
pose, father,  that  the  motions  and  manners 
are  really  in  themselves  graceful  and  agree- 
able, then  why  should  we  not  imitate  them  ? ' 

'  I  will  not  stop  at  present,  my  dear,  to  in- 
quire what  manners  are  in  themselves  really 
graceful,  because  this  would  lead  us  too  far ; 
but  take  it  for  granted  that  they  are  such,  still 
the  exact  imitation  would  not  please,  because 
what  suits  in  one  person  will  not  suit  in  an- 
other ;  the  figure,  or  the  manner  in  general, 
may  be  so  different  from  the  manner  imitated 
as  to  strike  us  with  the  contrast  and  unfitness. 
Suppose  you  put  the  arms  and  legs  of  a  clum- 
sy statue  to  the  body  of  a  thin  one,  or  a  young 
and  beautiful  head  upon  the  body  of  a  statue 
representing  an  aged,  wrinkled  figure,  would 
not  the  unfitness,  and  incongruity,  and  want 
of  agreement  in  the  whole,  strke  you?' 

'  Certainly,'  said  Rosamond,  laughing. 

'  And  suppose,'  continued  her  father,  '  that 
if,  instead  of  merely  changing  arms  and  legs; 


ROSAMOND.  67 

the  statues  were  allowed  the  powers  of  mo- 
tion, will,  and  imitation,  do  you  think  that 
anty  whole  statue  could,  with  any  chance  of 
pleasing,  assume  the  attitude  and  air  of  an- 
other? Suppose  the  well-clothed  statue  of 
Minerva  was  set  in  motion,  and  assumed  the 
air  of  Canova's  Venus  or  Hebe  ;  or  suppose 
Hebe  tried  to  look  like  Niobe,  or  to  assume 
the  helmet  and  the  air  of  Minerva,  would  not 
this  be  monstrous  or  ridiculous  V 

1  Yes  ;  but  those  are  such  very  different 
figures  and  characters,'  said  Rosamond. — 
'  Surely  some  might  be  better  suited,  father, 
if  not  among  statues,  among  real  people.' 

'  Yet,'  said  her  father,  '  we  seldom,  if  ever, 
see  two  persons  so  much  alike  in  person  and 
mind,  that  manners  which  suit  the  one  would 
become  the  other ;  therefore  even  exact  imi- 
tation would  appear  awkward,  unfit,  unnatu- 
ral, or  disagreeable,  or,  in  short,  what  we  call 
affected.  But  I  began  by  supposing  the  most 
favorable  case,  where  the  imitation  is  as  per- 
fect as  possible ;  but  this  rarely  occurs.  In 
most  imitations  of  manner  there  is  some  fail- 
ure, some  exaggeration,  some  awkwardness, 
or  some  apparent  consciousness  or  effort, 
which  betrays  that  the  manner  is  not  natural, 
and  this  effort  it  is  painful  to  the  spectator  to 
see.' 

'  Very  painful  ! '  said  Orlando,  i  writhing 
himself.  '  I  have  felt  tired,  as  if  I  had  been 
hard  at  work,  when  I  have  been  in  company 
with  an  affected  person  ;  doubly  tired — tired 


68  EARLY   LESSONS. 

for  myself,  and  tired  for  the  person  who  works 
so  hard  to  no  purpose.' 

(  Besides,  there  is  another  disagreeable  feel- 
ing we  have  when  in  company  with  affected 
people,'  said  Laura.  '  I  am  always  afraid 
that  they  should  perceive  that  I  have  found 
them  out,  and  that  I  dislike  them ;  they  are 
all  the  time  trying  to  conceal  what  I  cannot 
help  discovering.' 

1 1  confess  I  have  felt  this,'  said  Rosamond 
'  with  affected  people.' 

'  But  then  each  person  hopes  they  may  not 
be  found  out,  though  others  are,'  said  Godfrey. 

£  So  far  for  affectation  of  mere  external 
manners,'  said  her  father,  '  what  we  may  call 
bodily  affectation  ;  but,  when  we  go  farther, 
and  consider  the  imitation  of  sentiments,  feel- 
ings, and  opinions,  what  may  be  called  men- 
tal affectation,  the  affectation  for  instance  of 
sensibility  or  vivacity,  then  we  dislike  the 
imitators  still  more ;  we  not  only  despise  those 
who  attempt  to  please  us  by  pretending  to 
sentiments  or  feelings  which  are  not  their 
own,  but  we  resent  the  endeavor  to  impose 
upon  us.' 

'But,  father,'  interrupted  Rosamond,  'now 
you  are  speaking  of  dissimulation  and  false- 
hood, not  mere  affectation.' 

'  And  is  not  all  affectation  a  sort  of  dissim- 
ulation ; '  said  her  father ;  '  and  is  there  not 
some  falsehood  in  all  affectation?' 

'  Surely  there  is,'  said  Orlando ;  '  that  is  the 
reason  why  I  detest  and  despise  it.     It  is  im- 


ROSAMOND.  69 

possible  to  sympathize  with  affected  people  ; 
whether  they  pretend  to  feel  joy,  or  grief,  or 
surprise,  or  delight,  it  is  all  over-done ;  we  do 
not  understand  their  real  feelings,  and  we 
cannot  sympathize  with  what  is  not  true  or 
natural.  I  never  could  love  nor  make  a  friend 
of  an  affected  person.' 

While  Orlando,  with  a  vehemence  of  indig- 
nation uncommon  in  him,  uttered  these  words, 
Rosamond's  color  grew  deeper  and  deeper, 
and  there  came  the  choking  feeling  in  her 
throat ;  at  last  she  exclaimed,  '  Now  I  have 
lost  all !  Orlando  too  !  This  was  the  reason 
I  was  at  first  afraid  of  his  staying — of  his 
hearing.  I  had  a  feeling  that  he  hated  and 
despised  affectation ! ' 

i  And  what  then,  my  dear  ! '  said  the  aston- 
ished Orlando. 

'  His  thoughts/  cried  Godfrey,  '  were  at 
least  four  hundred  miles  off,  I'll  engage.' 

'  Exactly,'  said  Orlando,  '  for  they  were  at 
Edinburgh  with  a  person  I  saw  there  last 
week.' 

1  I  am  glad  of  it,'  said  Rosamond,  recover- 
ing a  little ;  '  I  am  sure  I  am  glad  your 
thoughts  were  not  with  me,  when  you  gave 
that  look.  One  look  of  contempt  from  Or- 
lando is  worse  to  me  than  all  your  ridicule, 
Godfrey.' 

'  I  do  not  understand  above  a  third  of  what 
is  going  on  here,'  said  Orlando.  '  You  do  not 
mean,  Godfrey,  that  Rosamond,  my  sister 
Rosamond,  is   affected?     When  I   went   to 


70  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Edinburgh  she  was  the  most  natural  little 
creature  I  ever  knew  ;  and  I  see  no  difference 
in  her  now,  but  that  she  has  grown  taller  and 
rather  prettier,  which  is  a  good  thing,  as  she 
is  to  be  a  woman,  and  which  I  am  very  glad 
to  see.     That's  all  I  have  to  say.' 

The  abrupt  and  droliy  grave  manner  in 
which  Orlando  said  this,  viewing  Rosamond 
from  head  to  foot  as  he  spoke,  and  finishing 
by  turning  her  round  and  contemplating  her 
back,  made  Godfrey  burst  into  laughter,  and 
proved  a  happy  relief  to  Rosamond's  embar- 
rassment. 

'  Bravo  !  my  dear  absent  brother  !  Cheer 
up,  Rosamond,  my  girl  !     All  is  safe  ! ' 

'  But,'  said  Rosamond,  gaining  fresh  cour- 
age, '  mother  has  said  nothing ;  I  must  know 
what  mother  thinks  ;  I  must  ask  her  one 
question ;  Mother,  did  you  ever  see  in  me — 
did  you  ever  think  me — you  know  what  I 
mean  1 ' 

'  Yes,  my  dear,  I  do  know  what  you  mean/ 
said  her  mother,  smiling ;  '  and,  since  you 
ask  the  question,  I  must  answer,  and  ac- 
knowledge that  I  have  sometimes  lately  seen 
some  little  airs  and  graces,  and  have  seen 
many  different  manners,  none  of  which  I 
liked  as  well  as  your  own.' 

'  But,  my  dear  mother,  why  did  you  not 
tell  me  of  these  things,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Because,  my  dear,  they  changed  so  quick- 
ly that  there  was  no  danger  of  their  becom- 
ing habitual ;  I  left  you  to  try  your  own  lit- 


ROSAMOND.  71 

tie  experiments,  trusting  to  your  good  sense 
and  good  taste  to  find  out  and  settle  at  last, 
that  what  is  natural  in  manner  is  best.' 

1  But  a  word  or  two,  a  hint  from  you,  moth- 
er, would  have  saved  me  all  this !  And 
would  not  it  have  been  better'?' 

'  No,  my  dear,  I  think  not ;  I  saw  what 
was  going  on  between  you  and  Godfrey,  and 
I  was  willing  that  you  should  hear  his  opin- 
ion— this  was  for  so  much  experience.  A 
little  of  his  raillery,  I  knew  would  be  of  more 
service  than  a  great  deal  of  my  grave  advice. 
Frequent  advice  and  remonstrance  to  young 
people,  about  their  manners,  is  apt  to  do  more 
harm  than  good.' 

1  Yes ;  even  I  said  a  little  too  much,  and 
gave  a  little  too  much  good  advice,  you  see,' 
said  Godfrey ;  '  I  made  her  feel  awkward.' 

'  I  am  very  glad,  Godfrey,  that  you  per- 
ceive this,'  continued  his  mother.  '  It  is  of 
the  greatest  consequence  to  your  sister,  that 
she  should  not  become  constrained  in  the  com- 
pany of  her  own  family  and  best  friends,  not 
merely  because  this  would  make  them  disa- 
greeable to  her,  but  because  it  might  lessen 
the  candor  and  openness  of  her  character.' 

'  Very  true,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Very  true  indeed,'  said  Godfrey;  '  I  know 
I  went  too  far,  and  I  will  not  do  it  again. 
Now,  father,  shall  we  go  to  the  riding  house, 
for  it  is  almost  time  ;  I  want  to  show  you 
how  well  I  can  sit  Curvette  to-day.' 

1  Stay,  my  boy,'  said  his  father,  '  your  sis- 


72  EARLY   LESSONS. 

ter  looks  as  if  she  had  something  more  to 
say.' 

1  More  ! '  said  Godfrey. 

1  Only  one  thing  more  ;  I  wish,  father,  be- 
fore we  go,  that  you,  and  mother,  and  all  of 
you,  would  fix  upon  some  person  whom  you 
would  wish  that  I  should  be  like ;  though  I 
must  not  imitate  parts  of  different  manners 
not  suited  to  me,  I  may  fix  upon  one  model 
for  imitation  surely.  You  know  you  hear 
people  say  to  their  daughters,  Make  such  a 
person  your  model ;  now,  mother,  give  me  a 
model.  If  Laura  was  out  of  the  room.  I 
should  say — somebody.  Who  would  you 
say,  mother?' 

;  I  should  say  nobody,  my  dear,'  replied 
her  mother. 

'  And  I  should  say  the  same,'  said  her  father. 

1  Indeed !  but  then  how  can  /  form  my 
manners  ? '  cried  Rosamond.  '  I  hear  people 
continually  talking  of  forming  the  manners. 
Now  I  really  do  not  exactly  know  what  is 
meant  by  a  manner,  mother,  nor  how  to  set 
about  to  acquire  it.' 

'  I  might  almost  venture  to  assert.'  said  her 
father,  '  that  those  who  have  the  best  man- 
ners have  no  manner  at  all.  To  form  your 
own,  my  dear,  without  making  any  one  par- 
ticular person  your  model,  observe  all  those 
who  have  the  most  amiable  and  agreeable 
manners;  try  to  find  out  the  cause,  the  prin- 
ciple, on  which  their  power  of  pleasing  de- 
pends, and  this  you  may  apply  to  your  own 


ROSAMOND.  73 

use.  Imperceptibly,  involuntarily,  without 
conscious  imitation  of  any  particular  person, 
you  will  acquire  that  air  and  manner  which 
is  common  to  well-bred  people.  It  has  been 
said,  and  truly,  that  good-breeding  is  the  re- 
sult of  good-nature  and  good  sense.  Be  at- 
tentive to  others,  and  good-natured,  and  you 
will  not  fail  to  please.  When  you  see  more 
of  the  world,  observe,  and  you  will  find  that, 
in  the  higher  and  in  the  highest  ranks,  those 
who  have  the  most  agreeable  manners,  and 
the  manners  most  admired  by  the  best  judges, 
are  perfectly  free  from  affectation.' 

'  Quite  above  it,'  said  Orlando.  '  In  all 
ranks  of  life,  those  who  have  strong  minds, 
those  who  depend  upon  themselves,  and  who 
do  not  want  on  every  trifling  occasion  the  ap- 
plause of  others,  are  never  affected.  You 
generally  see  weakness,  vanity,  and  affecta- 
tion all  go  together.' 

'  Generally,  but  not  always,'  said  Laura. 

I  Affectation  and  humility  sometimes  go  to- 
gether ;  those,  as  you  say,  who  have  not  suffi- 
cient dependence  on  themselves,  are  apt  to 
lean  on  the  opinions  of  others,  and  to  affect 
any  manner  which  they  think  more  pleasing 
than  their  own.' 

'  From  this  time  forward,'  said  Rosamond, 

I I  am  determined  that  neither  humility  nor 
vanity  shall  ever  make  me  affected  again  as 
long  as  I  live;  and  thank  you,  father,  for 
staying  from  your  ride,  and  assisting  me  to 


74  EARLY   LESSONS. 

go  to  the  bottom  of  the  business,  and  for  e& 
plaining  all  the  reasons.' 

{  My  dear  Rosamond,  you  may  now  depend 
more  securely  on  your  good  resolution  against 
affectation,  since  your  understanding  is  really 
convinced  of  its  folly,  than  if  you  were  only 
afraid  of  Godfrey's  ridicule,  or  of  Orlando's 
contempt ;  your  brothers  will  not  be  always 
with  you,  or  some  other  influence  may  some- 
times rival  theirs  ;  but  the  conviction  of  your 
understanding  will  be  always  with  you,  and 
must  ever  last  the  same.' 

'  But  Godfrey  did  me  a  great  deal  of  good 
too,'  said  Rosamond,  'though  it  was  a  little 
disagreeable  at  the  time.' 

1  You  are  the  best  tempered,  as  well  as  best 
natured  sister  in  the  world,'  said  Godfrey. 
1  So  come  all  of  you  and  see  me  sit  Curvette. 
And,  Rosamond,  I  promise  you,'  added  he,  in 
a  whisper,  '  there  shall  be  an  end  with  me 
for  ever  of  A  shape  and  a  face,  and  odious 
Beauty's  Goddess.' 

'  And  I  promise  you,'  said  Rosamond,  'there 
shall  be  an  end  with  me  for  ever  of  Airs  and 
Graces.' 


ROSAMOND.  75 


THE  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER. 

*  T  AUGH  on  !  laugh  on,  Rosamond  ! '  cried 

J-^  Godfrey ;  '  why  not  laugh  in  this  world 
at  every  thing  and  every  body  that  is  ridicu- 
lous?'' * 

'  But  O,  my  dear  Godfrey  !  I  must  not 
laugh  at  my  friends f  said  Rosamond,  check- 
ing herself,  as  she  was  beginning  to  mimic  an 
elderly  lady,  who  had  been  very  kind  to  her. 

Laura,  who  was  present,  looked  up  from 
her  drawing  with  a  countenance  which  plain- 
ly said,  '  Right,  Rosamond  ! '  and  which  al- 
most as  plainly  implied,  '  Wrong,  Godfrey.' 

Godfrey,  a  little  piqued,  immediately  made 
a  low  bow,  with  mock  solemnity,  to  Laura, 
and  said,  '  I  submit  with  all  due  deference  to 
the  Lady  Laura  Grave-airs,  who  is  Propriety 
personified,  with  a  camel's  hair  pencil  in  her 
mouth ! ' 

1  You  shall  not  make  me  laugh,  Godfrey,  I 
assure  you,'  said  Rosamond,  '  either  at  Lau- 
ra, or  at  my  friend  Mrs.  Egerton.' 

'  As  you  please,  my  dear ;  be  as  grave  and 
as  stupid  as  you  please,  by  way  of  becoming 
very  good.  But  pray,  Rosamond,  now  I  re- 
collect,' continued  he,  '  is  not  this  grand  Mrs. 
Egerton  the  lady  of  the  black  bonnet,  the  very 
woman  you  took  such  a  dislike  to,  once  upon 
a  time,  because  she  had  a  pinch  in  her  black 
bonnet ') ' 


76  EARLY   LESSONS. 

1  That  was  when  I  was  a  child,  quite,1  said 
Rosamond. 

'  O !  and  now  you  are  a  woman,  quite  ! ' 
replied  Godfrey,  '  and  a  lady,  quite ;  the  Lady 
Rosamond  Grave-airs,  who  is  trying  to  prim 
up  her  mouth,  and  look  like  that  model  of 
perfection — the  Lady  Laura.  Let  me  try 
now  if  I  can  please  you,  ladies.  I  will  prac- 
tise in  this  glass.  Now,  Rosamond,  is  this 
right  ?  No — I  am  afraid  it  is  not  quite  the 
thing  yet ;  I  cannot  keep  the  corners  of  my 
mouth  down  to  the  true  Grave-air  point. 
Stay,  now  I  have  Laura's  mouth — look  ! ' 

i  I  will  not  laugh,'  repeated  Rosamond. 

1  What !  not  when  I  choose  to  make  you 
laugh  ? '  said  Godfrey.  '  I  defy  you  to  keep 
your  countenance — I  see  it  giving  way  al- 
ready. I  will  be  bound  that,  before  I  have 
done,  I  will  make  you  laugh  at  old  Mrs. 
Pinch-bonnet  and  her  wiggy  brother.' 

'  Never,  never,  Godfrey,'  insisted  Rosa- 
mond. 

'  We  shall  see,'  continued  he,  following  her 
up  and  down  the  room,  making  some  ridicu- 
lous old  woman's  face,  while  Rosamond,  re- 
solving to  avoid  looking  at  him,  went  in 
search  of  her  music  books,  opened  the  piano- 
forte, and  began  to  play  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton's march ;  the  full  band  prevented  hei 
from  hearing  any  thing  more  that  Godfrey 
was  saying ;  but  when  she  paused  for  an  in- 
stant, to  turn  over  the  leaf,  Godfrey  coughed 
so  like  old  Mrs.  Egerton.  and  turned  over  the 


ROSAMOND.  77 

leaf  for  her,  with  a  'Very  well  indeed,  my 
dear  Miss  Rosamond,'  said  in  a  voice  so  like 
Dr.  Egerton's  that  Rosamond  could  scarcely 
keep  to  her  resolution ;  feeling  this,  she  sud- 
denly rose  and  run  out  of  the  room. 

'  Victory  !  victory  ! '  cried  Godfrey.  1 1  like 
her  daring  to  tell  me  that  she  would  not  laugh, 
when  I  chose  to  make  her  laugh.  Victory  ! 
victory  !  victory  !  Acknowledge  that  I  have 
won  the  victory.  Laura  ;  acknowledge  it.' 

'  No — the  victory  is  Rosamond's,  I  think,' 
said  Laura. 

1  So  it  seems,  in  truth,  by  her  running 
away,'  replied  Godfrey.  '  No,  no,  it  is  clear 
that  I  remain  master  of  the  field,  so  I  am  sat- 
isfied ;  and  I  can  assure  you,  Laura,  once  for 
all,  that  I  will  never  give  up  my  power  over 
Rosamond's  risible  muscles.  I  know  little, 
and  care  nothing  about  these  Egertons,'  con- 
tinued he  ;  '  but  I  am  tired  of  hearing  of  their 
excellences ;  and  besides,  I  own,  I  think  Rosa- 
mond gives  up  too  much  of  her  time,  during 
my  holidays,  to  them ;  I  think  her  wrong 
there ;  and  so,  with  your  leave,  my  dear,  on 
your  own  principles,  I  shall  do  right  to  laugh 
her  out  of  that;  I  shall  do  my  best,  depend 
upon  it,  to  laugh  her  out  of  her  love  and  rev- 
erence for  their  excellences.' 

'  No,  no,  you  will  not  do  that,  I  think,'  said 
Laura. 

1  We  shall  see,'  said  Godfrey.  '  Do  you 
defy  me  ? ' 

1  I  do  not  defy  you,'   said   Laura,    '  for  I 


78  EARLY   LESSONS. 

know  that  would  be  the  way  to  provoke  you 
to  make  the  trial ;  but  the  truth  is,  my  dear 
Godfrey,  that  I  have  too  good  an  opinion  of 
you  to  believe  that  you  would  do  this,  even 
if  you  could ;  and  I  have  too  good  an  opinion 
of  Rosamond  to  think  you  could  if  you  would.' 

'  Finely  said  !  only  too  great  a  jingle  of 
goods,  coulds,  and  ivoulds,  my  eloquent  sister 
Antithesis,'  said  Godfrey.  '  And  as  to  the 
plain  matter  of  fact,  my  dear,  your  good 
opinion  of  Rosamond  and  of  me  is,  I  have  a 
notion,  equally  ill-founded,  as  I  shall  have 
the  honor  of  proving  to  you  before  a  week  be 
at  an  end.  Pray  what  is  to-day — Wednes- 
day. Then  I  have  just  nine  days  left  of  my 
holidays,  and  to-morrow  I  begin  my  opera- 
tions. But  you  will  keep  my  counsel?  You 
will  not  give  her  warning  1 ' 

1 1  am  not  of  your  counsel ;  I  will  certainly 
give  her  warning,'  said  Laura. 

'  That's  not  fair,'  said  Godfrey ;  '  but  do  so 
and  welcome ;  so  sure  of  my  game  am  I,  that 
I  will  give  you  up  the  first  move,  only  let  us 
settle  what  we  shall  acknowledge  to  be  game. 
Let  me  see — Rosamond  plagues  me  by  going 
every  morning,  at  some  regular  time — which 
by  the  by  I  hate — to  her  dear  Mrs.  Pinch- 
bonnet,  to  do  something  or  other  with  her, 
or  for  her,  I  don't  know  what ;  and,  when  I 
remonstrated  yesterday,  Rosamond  had  the 
assurance  to  tell  me,  with  an  emphatic  nod  of 
her  dear  little  impertinent  head,  that  she 
would  never  give  up  that  hour  to  me — ' 


ROSAMOND.  79 

'  And  I  do  not  think  she  will,'  said  Laura. 

1  Then  this  shall  be  my  point,'  said  God- 
frey ;  '  if  I  make  her  give  it  up,  I  have  the  vic- 
tory. O,  rare  diversion  I  shall  have  at  any 
rate  !  A  fine  trial  of  skill !  A  fair  trial  of 
my  power ;  and  if  against  yours,  my  dear 
Laura,  so  much  the  better  !  so  much  more 
glorious  the  victory  !  If  you  will,  I'll  give 
you  leave  to  call  it  the  nine  days'  wonder  ;  so 
good-morning  to  you.  At  Rosamond's  ap- 
pointed hour,  to-morrow,  I'll  meet  you  and 
her,  tongue  to  tongue,  and  my  motto  shall  be, 

Let  those  laugh  now  who  never  laughed  before, 

Let  those  who  always  laugh'd,  now  laugh  the  more.' 

At  Rosamond's  appointed  hour,  as  Godfrey 
called  it,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  going  regu- 
larly to  read  to  her  old  friend,  Mrs.  Egerton, 
who  was  confined  to  her  room  by  rheumatism; 
she  had  so  much  lost  her  hearing,  that  she 
was  obliged  to  use  a  trumpet  in  common  con- 
versation; but  there  were  some  voices,  to 
which  she  had  been  long  accustomed,  and 
some  persons  who  spoke  very  distinctly,  and 
who  had  the  art  of  pitching  their  voice  so  as 
to  suit  her  ear  so  well  as  to  prevent  the 
necessity  of  using  her  trumpet.  Of  this 
number  was  Rosamond,  whose  voice  was 
peculiarly  pleasing  to  her,  as  she  could  hear  it 
when  it  was  not  raised  above  the  usual  tone 
of  conversation.  Rosamond  read  aloud  very 
well.  Mrs.  Egerton,  who  had  a  strong  and 
lively  taste  for  the  pleasure  of  reading,  and  a 


80 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


quick  and  grateful  feeling  of  any  attention 
and  kindness  from  her  friends,  especially  from 
Rosamond,  of  whom  she  was  excessively  fond 
enjoyed  so  much  that  time  of  the  day,  when 
Rosamond  read  to  her,  that  she  called  it  her 
happy  hour.  She  looked  forward  to  it,  as  she 
said,  when  she  lay  awake  in  the  night,  or 
when  she  wakened  in  the  morning,  it  was  her 
first  pleasant  idea.  Rosamond,  to  whom  Mrs. 
Egerton  had  shown  constant  kindness,  ever 
since  their  first  acquaintance  in  the  days  of 
the  India  Cabinet,  was  delighted  to  have  this 
opportunity  of  showing  her  gratitude,  and  of 
contributing  to  her  old  friend's  daily  comfort. 


ROSAMOND.  81 

Mrs.  Egerton  had  this  season  taken  a  house 
so  near  to  that  in  which  Rosamond  lived,  and 
so  situated  that  she  could  pass  and  repass 
through  the  green  park  in  a  few  minutes  at 
any  time,  without  the  difficulties  which  in 
town  usually  attend  the  exits  and  entrances 
of  young  ladies.  Her  mother  had  given  her 
leave  to  go  to  Mrs.  Egerton's  constantly,  pro- 
vided always  that  she  should  he  punctual  to 
the  hour,  when  a  servant  was  appointed  to 
attend  her  ;  but  it  was  a  rule  that,  if  she  were 
not  ready  at  that  moment,  she  was  not  to  go 
at  any  other  time  of  the  day,  and  then  her 
old  friend  missed,  for  that  day,  her  happy 
hour.  Gratitude,  and  the  pleasure  of  giving 
pleasure,  had  been  sufficiently  powerful  to 
make  Rosamond,  what  all  who  knew  her 
once  despaired  of  her  ever  being,  very  punc- 
tual. She  was  now  reading  Waverly  to  her 
friend ;  and,  as  she  had  a  qnick  ear,  and  had 
caught  many  varieties  of  Scotch  pronuncia- 
tion, which  she  learned  during  a  visit  she 
paid  in  her  childhood  to  a  friend  in  Scotland, 
she  could  do  greater  justice  to  the  admirable 
scenes  in  that  romance  than  many  a  more 
experienced  English  reader. 

It  is  doing  necessary  justice  to  Godfrey  to 
premise  that  he,  having  been  at  school  for 
some  time  past,  knew  little  or  nothing  of  the 
kindness  which  Rosamond  had  received  from 
Mrs.  Egerton,  or  of  the  progress  of  her  friend- 
ship. All  he  knew  of  Mrs.  Egerton  was  from 
a  school-fellow,  who  was  connected  with  her 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


family,  and  who  happened  not  to  like  the 
Egertons  ;  whether  from  ignorance,  levity,  or 
prejudice,  remains  to  be  decided. 

Though  not  in  general  more  noted  for 
punctuality  than  was  his  sister  Rosamond, 
Godfrey  could  be  exact  with  extraordinary 
motive,  and  the  next  morning  he  appeared  at 
the  appointed  hour. 

'So,  brother!'  Rosamond  began,  with  a 
face  that  promised  no  easy  victory,  and  a 
tone  of  voice  that  expressed  as  much  indigna- 
tion as  the  occasion  required,  '  I  am  to  thank 
you  for  the  good  opinion  you  have  of  me.  I 
find  you  think  me  such  a  poor,  weak,  despi- 
cable creature,  that  you  can  by  a  little  ridi- 
cule laugh  rne  out  of  my  friends,  and  out  of 
my  gratitude,  and  out  of  my  principles,  and 
out  of  my  senses ;  and  this  is  the  way  you  re- 
turn all  my  love  and  confidence !  But  do 
your  best,  do  your  worst,  I  hope,  I  trust  you 
will  find  that,  well  as  I  love  you,  brother  God- 
frey, your  power  over  me  does  not  go  quite  so 
far  as  this  comes  to.  I  am  not  quite  such  an 
idiot,  nor  quite  so  ungrateful-  if  I  were,  I 
should  very  ill  deserve  such  friends  as  I  have.1 

'  Meaning  their  Excellencys,'  said  Godfrey,' 
speaking  with  the  most  provoking  composure. 

'  Brother,  if  you  mean  Mrs.  Egerton  and 
Dr.  Egerton,  you  may  call  them  their  excel- 
lencys, or  what  you  please,  as  long  as  you 
please,  you  will  never  make  them  ridiculous, 
for  they  are  not  ridiculous.* 

'  Certainly,   if  they  are  not  ridiculous,    I 


KOSAMOND.  83 

cannot  make  them  ridiculous,'  said  Godfrey ; 
?  that's  a  truth,  or  truism.' 

'  A  truth  I  think  you'll  find  it,'  said  Rosa- 
mond. '  With  all  your  wit,  Godfrey,  there 
is  nothing  like  truth  ;  and,  as  the  gentleman 
who  dined  here  yesterday  said,  Ridicule  is 
the  test  of  truth.' 

'  Take  it  the  other  way,'  said  Laura,  '  as 
my  father  said  to  him,  Truth  is,  or  ought  to 
be,  the  test  of  ridicule.' 

'  O,  ladies !  one  at  a  time,  for  pity's  sake,' 
cried  Godfrey ;  '  between  two  such  sharp 
choppers  of  logic,  what  will  become  of  a  poor 
blockhead  like  me  'I  Not  a  chip  of  me  will  be 
left;  I  must  give  up  the  point' 

1  Give  up  !  not  you,'  cried  Rosamond.  '  O, 
I  know  you  too  well !  We  know  him  too 
well;  don't  we,  Laura? 

Though  arm'd  in  impudence,  mankind  he  braves, 
And  meditates  new  cheats  on  all  his  slaves.' 

'  There  you  do  me  injustice,'  said  Godfrey ; 
1  all  that  I  say  is  at  least  quite  unpremedita- 
ted. Observe,  I  have  spoken  only  in  reply ; 
you  had  the  advantage  of  me ;  for  I  gave  you 
four  and  twenty  hours,  and  you  came  upon 
me  with  a  sort  of  oration ;  and  a  very  fine  one 
it  was  !  full  of  fine  sentiments  and  principles ; 
with  only  one  fault — it  was  rather  too  grand 
for  the  occasion.' 

'  Was  itT  said  Rosamond ;  '  I  did  not  know 
it  was  fine;  I  spoke  just  from  my  heart.' 

'  And  you   went  just  to  my  heart,'    said 


84  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Godfrey,  'by  one  thing  about  love  and  con- 
fidence. O,  Rosamond  !  that  was  too  serious, 
too  bitter.' 

'  I  did  not  mean  to  be  bitter,'  replied  Rosa- 
mond ;  '  but  I  own  I  was  a  little  angry  at 
your  thinking  me  such  an  idiot,  and  so 
changeable.' 

'  And  could  you  imagine  that  I  think  you 
an  idiot?'  said  Godfrey.  'There's  nobody 
living  has  a  better  opinion  of  your  understand- 
ing than  I  have.  Proof  positive — should  I 
argue  and  reason  with  you  continually  if  I 
had  not  ?  If  I  did  not  think  you  my  equal, 
would  there  be  any  pleasure  or  any  glory  in 
conquering  you  V 

'  To  be  sure,  there  is  some  truth  in  that' 
said  Rosamond  ;  '  but  I  know,  Godfrey,  that 
you  think  me  weak.' 

'If  yon  call  being  good-natured  being  weak,' 
replied  Godfrey,  '  1  don't  deny  that  I  think  you 
weak  ;  and  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  a 
sister  who  had  not  this  sort  of  feminine  weak- 
ness. I  don't  like  women  who  are  as  strong 
as  Hercules.' 

'  Not  as  Hercules,  to  be  sure,'  said  Rosa- 
mond. 

'  But  strength  of  mind  and  of  body  are  dif- 
ferent,' said  Laura;  'and  surely  strength  of 
mind  is  not  unfeminine.' 

'  Un pleasing,  which  comes  to  the  same 
thing,'  said  Godfrey. 

'  Seriously,  brother,'  said  Rosamond,  '  do 
you  think  me  so  easily  governed  by  ridicule?' 


ROSAMOND.  85 

1  Honestly,  sister,  I  do  not  think  that  you 
are  to  be  touched  and  moved  by  ridicule 
alone;  nor  should  I  like  any  girl  who  pre- 
tends to  be  ridicule  proof ;  I  would  as  soon 
have  her  bullet  proof;  a  woman  is  never  call- 
ed on  to  stand  to  be  shot  at,  nor  to  stand  to  be 
laughed  at ;  in  either  case  she  makes  a  woful- 
ly  awkward  figure.' 

'  But,  Godfrey,'  said  Laura,  '  might  not  she 
be  in  rather  a  worse  condition,  and  end  by 
being  worse  than  an  awkward  figure,  if  she 
could  never  bear  to  be  laughed  at  when  in 
the  right  ?  Then  indeed  she  would  be  a  poor, 
weak,  despicable  creature,  who  could,  by  a 
little  ridicule,  be  laughed  out  of  her  principles, 
and  her  gratitude,  and  her  friends.' 

'  It  is  time  to  go  to  Mrs.  Egerton  ! '  cried 
Rosamond,  suddenly  starting  up.  '  So.  good- 
morning  to  you,  brother.' 

'  Gone,  I  declare  !  and  I  am  conquered  ! ' 
said  Godfrey,  as  she  left  the  room ;  '  but  it  is 
only  the  first  day.  You  need  not  look  so 
proud  and  delighted,  Laura;  I  don't  value 
losing  a  day.' 

'  So  I  see,'  said  Laura. 

The  second  morning,  full  five  minutes  be- 
fore the  appointed  hour,  Godfrey  found  Rosa- 
mond with  her  bonnet  on,  and  a  watch  upon 
the  table  before,  while  she  and  Laura  were 
sitting  drawing. 

1  Prepared  1  see,  Rosamond  ! '  said  Godfrey. 
'  The  combined  forces  drawn  up  !  j  added  he, 
looking  at  Laura.     '  Two  to  one  against  me, 


86  EARLY    LESSONS. 

which  shows  that  you  are  desperately  afraid. 
If  I  were  you,  Rosamond,  I  should  be  quite 
ashamed  to  call  in  assistance  to  keep  my  own 
wise  and  good  resolutions.' 

'  I  did  not  call  in  any  assistance,'  said  Ro- 
samond. 

'  Nor  need  she  be  ashamed  of  it,  if  she  had,' 
said  Laura.  '  Rosamond  is  too  wise  to  be 
ashamed  of  having  the  advice  and  assistance 
of  her  friends.' 

'  So  I  perceive,'  said  Godfrey,  looking  at 
Rosamond,  who  did  her  very  best  not  to  ap- 
pear out  of  countenance.  '  But,  for  my  part/ 
continued  Godfrey,  '  I  would  not  give  the 
ninty-ninth  part  of  a  straw  for  man,  woman, 
or  child,  who  cannot  keep  their  own  good 
resolutions,  without  having  a  flapper  beside 
them,  to  put  them  in  mind  of  what  they  ought 
to  do.' 

'  Do  you  remember,  brother,'  said  Laura, 
'  your  wish,  when  you  were  reading  that 
story  in  the  Adventurer,  last  week?' 

'Not  I.  What  wish?' said  Godfrey.  'What 
story  ? ' 

'  Don't  you  remember,'  said  Laura,  '  when 
you  were  reading  the  story  of  Amureth  and 
his  ring,  which  always  pressed  his  finger 
when  he  was  going  to  do  any  thing 
wrong?' 

'  Yes — I  wished  to  have  such  a  ring,'  said 
Godfrey. 

■  Well,  a  friend  is  as  good  as  such  a  ring,' 
said  Rosamond  ;  '  for  a  friend  is,  as  somebody 


ROSAMOND.  87 

observed,  a  second  conscience;  I  may  call  Lau- 
ra my  second  conscience.'' 

'  Mighty  fine  !  but  I  don't  like  a  secondary 
conscience  ;  a  first  conscience  is,  in  my  opin- 
ion, a  better  thing,'  said  Godfrey. 

1  You  may  have  that  too,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Too !  but  I  had  rather  have  it  alone,'  said 
Godfrey.  '  There  is  something  so  cowardly 
in  not  daring  to  stand  alone.' 

1  You  are  a  man,  and  are  bound  to  be  cour- 
ageous,' said  Rosamond ;  '  I  am  a  woman, 
and  may  be  allowed  not  to  be  so  bold.' 

'  Now  Laura  looks  so  proud,  and  so  much 
delighted  with  that  speech,  because  it  is  vast- 
ly like  one  of  her  own  proud  humility  speeches. 
But  that's  not  your  natural  character,  Rosa- 
mond, my  dear,  and  you  will  never  hold  it 
long ;  and  remember  what  my  father  said, 
that  mental  affectation  is  worse  than  bodily 
affectation.' 

1 0,  Godfrey,  how  unjust ! '  cried  Rosa- 
mond, '  to  call  my  trying  to  do  right,  affecta- 
tion.    Now,  Laura,  is  he  not  wrong?' 

'  Very  wrong  indeed,  and  he  knows  it,'  said 
Laura. 

Godfrey  made  no  reply,  but  began  to 
whistle. 

'  Reduced  to  whistling  ! '  cried  Rosamond. 
*  I  have  observed  that  Godfrey  is  always  in  a 
bad  way  when  he  whistles  ;  he  whistles  for 
want  of  something  to  say.' 

In  her  triumph,  Rosamond  might  perhaps 
have  forgotten  to  look  at  the  watch,  which 


88  EARLY   LESSONS. 

lay  on  the  table,  and  might  not  have  observed 
that  the  hand  was  within  a  few  seconds  of 
the  appointed  hour,  had  not  Laura  held  the 
watch  before  her  eyes.  Immediately  Rosa- 
mond disappeared,  crying,  '  The  second  hand 
is  not  yet  at.  the  appointed  hour.' 

'It  is  good  to  have  a  second  hand  con- 
science, I  acknowledge,'  said  Godfrey,  as  she 
shut  the  door. 

'  And  good  to  be  able  to  pay  one's-self  with 
a  pun  for  having  no  conscience  at  all,'  said 
Laura  smiling. 

This  pun  was  all  Godfrey  had  to  console 
him  for  this  day's  failure.  But  what  were 
two  days  to  him,  who  had  seven  in  store  ! 
He  scorned  them,  as  a  first-rate  player  at 
checkers  throws  his  men  away,  or  seems  to 
throw  them  away,  carelessly  in  the  onset, 
trusting  that  success  in  the  beginning  will  in- 
duce that  self-confidence,  which  leads  to  ulti- 
mate defeat. 

On  the  third  morning  Rosamond  was  proud 
to  be  alone,  hoping  thus  to  prove,  as  she  said 
to  Godfrey,  '  That  she  needed  no  second-hand 
conscience.' 

1  And  pray,  my  dear,'  said  Godfrey,  '  apro- 
pos to  second-hand,  what  is  this  strange  ma- 
chine that  you  have  on  the  table  ? ' 

'  This  watch,  do  you  mean  ? '  said  Rosa- 
mond. 

'  Aye,  this  huge,  ugly,  clumsy,  warming- 
pan  of  a  watch ;  1  never  saw  such  a  ridiculous 
thing  in  my  life.' 


ROSAMOND. 


89 


1  Yon  say  this,  brother,  only  because  you 
know  whose  it  is  ;  let  me  tell  you  that  this 
watch  is  a  great  curiosity.  You  don't  know 
its  value.' 

•  Its  value,  I  presume,  depends  on  its  hav- 
ing had  the  honor  to  belong  to  old  Mrs.  Pinch- 
bonnet  ;  a  frightful  pinchbeck  thing  it  is  ." 

'  Gold,  not  pinchbeck,'!  said  Rosamond  ; 
j  made  before  pinchbeck  existed  ;  it  belonged 
to  Charles  the  Second,  and  is  one  of  the  first 
watches  that  ever  was  made  in  England,  and 
it  goes  remarkably  well.' 

'  And  pray  where  is  it  to  go  in  future?'  said 

VOL.  II.      8 


90  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Godfrey.  '  Is  it  to  go  by  your  side,  Rosa- 
mond, or  to  hang  round  your  neck  in  this 
manner?  my  dear,  its  weight  will  strangle 
you.' 

'  Round  my  neck  !  O  no,  brother.' 

'  Next  your  heart  then — this  way  ?  an  an- 
tiquarian keepsake  from  dearest  dear  Mrs. 
Pinchbonnet.' 

'  I  am  not  going  to  wear  it,'  said  Rosamond. 
'  The  watch  is  not  mine,  I  am  only  making  a 
case  to  hang  it  in,  to  stand  upon  the  chimney- 
piece  in  Dr.  Egerton's  study.' 

'  Clock  and  watch,  and  pendule  case  maker 
to  the  reverend  Dr.  Egerton,'  cried  Godfrey, 
'  that  is  an  honor  indeed  !  I  do  not  wonder 
you  look  so  cook-a-hoop.' 

'  Cook-a-hoop  ! '  repeated  Rosamond,  with 
cool  disdain  ;  '  such  a  vulgar  expression  ! ' 

'  Not  elegant  enough  for  Mrs.  Pinchbonnet' s 
pet,  or  pettish  pupil,'  said  Godfrey. 

'  Poor  wit,'  said  Rosamond. 

c  But  here  is  something  superlatively  ele- 
gant,' cried  Godfrey,  looking  with  mock  ad- 
miration at  a  pendule  stand,  which  Rosamond 
was  making  ;  '  is  this  a  clock-case  which  I  see 
before  me  1 ' 

'  Brother,  it  is  really  ill-natured  to  laugh  at 
every  thing  I  do,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  At  every  thing  you  do  !  No,  my  dear,' 
said  Godfrey,  '  only  at  every  thing  you  do  for 
Mrs.  Pinchbonnet' 

\  As  if  there  was  the  least  wit  in  eternally 
repeating  Mrs.  Pinchbonnet]  said  Rosamond 


i 


ROSAMOND.  91 

'and  as  if  that  could  alter  my  opinion  of 
her!' 

f  It  seems  to  alter  your  opinion  of  me,'  said 
Godfrey;  'and  if  it  can  produce  so  great  an 
effect,  why  not  the  lesser ;  for  I  suppose  you 
don't  yet  love  Mrs. — I  must  not  say  Pinch- 
bonnet — quite  so  well  as  you  do  poor  me,  your 
own  flesh  and  blood  brother,  and  once  your 
friend,  Rosamond.  Tell  me,  do  you  like 
these  curmudgeons  as  well  as  you  like 
me?' 

'  Nonsense  1  you  know  very  well;  but  I 
will  not  answer  that  question  ;  I  must  how- 
ever observe,  brother,  that  you  are  quite  wrong 
to  call  these  excellent  people  curmudgeons.'' 

'  Why  so,  Rosamond  1  Excellent  people 
may  be  curmudgeons.' 

'  No,  brother;  pray  look  in  Johnson's  Dic- 
tionary, and  you  will  find  that  curmudgeon 
comes  from  coeurmechant,  a  bad  heart ;  now 
nobody  ever  had  a  better  heart  than  Mrs.  Eg- 
erton.' 

'  Except  dear  old  wiggy,  her  brother,'  said 
Godfrey ;  '  how  could  you  forget  him,  ungrate- 
ful Rosamond  !  Poor,  dear,  old  excellentis- 
simo  wiggy  ! ' 

'  How  can  you  make  me  laugh  at  such 
nonsense  ! '  said  Rosamond. 

'  How  can  I  ? '  said  Godfrey  ;  '  I  really  do 
not  know ;  but  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you 
laugh  once  more ;  for,  seriously,  Rosamond, 
you  are  infinitely  more  agreeable  when  you 
are  your  own  merry  self,  than  when  you  look 


92  EARLY    LESSONS. 

like  old  Mrs.  Egerton,  and  set  up  for  a  prim 
Pattern-of-perfection-miss  in  her  teens.' 

'  I  never  set  up  for  any  pattern  of  perfec- 
tion ;  and  I  did  not  mean  to  be  prim ;  and  1 
don't  believe  that  I  look  like  old  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton,' said  Rosamond. 

'  You  don't  believe  you  look  like  her !  My 
dear,  you  are  growing  as  like  her  as  ever  you 
can  stare.' 

'  Stare  !  but  I  don't  stare,  nor  Mrs.  Egerton 
neither  ;  and  you  never  used  such  vulgar  ex- 
pressions till  lately.' 

'  Translate  it  into  what  elegant  terms  you 
will,'  said  Godfrey,  '  the  fact  remains  the 
same ;  you  are  growing  very  like  your  friend, 
Mrs.  Egerton.' 

'  Impossible,  brother  !  An  old  lady  of  her 
age  !     How  ridiculous  ! ' 

'  How  ridiculous,  indeed  ! ' 

'  But  in  what,  or  how  can  I  be  like  her  ? ' 

'  In  a  hundred  things ;  but  let  me  alone 
now,  Rosamond,  I  have  no  more  time  to  talk  ; 
I  want  to  read,  really ;  where  is  my  book  7 ' 

Godfrey  sat  down  to  read,  and,  after  five 
minutes'  silence,  Rosamond  could  not  refrain 
from  saying — 

1  Seriously,  Godfrey,  do  pray  tell  me  in 
what  I  am  growing  like  Mrs.  Egerton,  and 
explain  what  you  mean  by  my  prim  ways.' 

'  My  dear,  pray  let  me  alone  now  ;  I  must 
read,'  replied  he,  shaking  off  her  hand  from 
his  shoulder. 

Rosamond  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  and 


ROSAMOND.  93 

then  said,  '  1  will  only  ask  yon  one  quest  ion^ 
brother — were  yon  in  earnest  when  you  said 
I  was  growing  disagreeable?' 

'  O,  don't  plague  me,  Rosamond,'  said  God- 
frey, impatiently. 

'  Plague  you  !  O,  brother  !  when  you  plague 
me  for  ever.  What  can  I  do  to  please  you  V 
cried  Rosamond. 

'  You  don't  want  to  please  me,'  replied 
Godfrey.     '  Go  and  please  Mrs.  Egerton.' 

1  But  cannot  I  please  you  both  V  said  Ro- 
samond ;  '  I  am  sure  I  love  you  both.' 

'  May  be  so,  but  you  cannot  please  us  both  ; 
so  please  yourself,  I  advise  you  ;  go,  it's  just 
time ;  go  and  read  to  your  new  friend,  and 
leave  me  in  peace  to  read  to  myself 

'  Are  you  really  serious,  Godfrey  ?  If  I 
thought  you  were  really  serious — '  said  poor 
Rosamond. 

Fortunately  for  her,  Laura  came  into  the 
room  at  this  moment,  to  remind  her  what 
o'clock  it  was. 

Rosamond  took  the  bonnet,  which  Laura 
put  into  her  hand,  and  moved  toward  the 
door,  but  still  looked  back  anxiously  at  God- 
frey, who,  in  a  mock  heroic  tone,  exclaimed, 

'  I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear, 
Which  says  I  must  not  stay  ; 
I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 
Which  beckons  me  away. 

And  such  a  hand!  O,  such  a  hand! '  added  he. 

His  emphasis  recalled  the  idea  of  poor  Mrs. 

Egerton' s  maimed  hand.     Rosamond  put  on 


94  EARLY    LESSONS. 

her  bonnet  directly,  and  turned  away  decid- 
edly. ■ 

'  O,  brother  ! '  said  she,  '  now  I  am  certain 
you  are  only  acting  a  part  to  try  me ;  for  you 
could  not,  I  am  sure,  be  so  cruel  as  to  laugh 
at  bodily  infirmity  ;  especially  when  you 
know,  as  well  as  I  do,  how  that  hand  was 
burned.  Thank  you,  Laura,  for  coming  to 
warn  me;  you  are  my  good  genius.' 

'  And  my  evil  genius,'  cried  Godfrey,  the 
moment  Rosamond  had  left  the  room. 

'  I  wish,  Laura,  that  you  had  staid  away ; 
you  won  this  day  for  her ;  if  you  had  but  staid 
away  five  minutes  longer,  I  should  have  gain- 
ed my  point ;  Rosamond  was  such  a  fool  when 
you  were  away,  my  dear  !  And  she  grew  so 
wise  the  moment  you  came  near  her ;  she 
found  my  tricks  out  directly.' 

1  Yes  ;  and  when  tricks  are  found  out  you 
know,'  said  Laura,  '  the  tricker  loses  his 
power.' 

'  Not  at  all ;  Rosamond  will  be  just  such  a 
fool  again,  you  will  see — no,  you  will  not  see, 
for  it  must  be  when  you  are  not  by ;  she 
grows  in  sense  so  prodigiously  whenever  you 
come  near.  But  if  that  should  always  be  her 
doom  in  life,  it  would  be  inconvenient,'  said 
Godfrey,  l  and  very  ridiculous.' 

'  Ridiculous !  But,  Godfrey,  is  that  all  you 
think  of,  how  ridiculous  your  friend  would 
iook?' 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear,'  interrupted 
Godfrey,  'but  1  have  just  thought  of  an  ex- 


ROSAMOND.  95 

cellent  allusion.  Did  you  ever  know  that 
Venus  was  frightened,  when  she  found-*Cupid 
never  grew  ;  and  she  complained  to  old  Ju- 
piter, and  asked  what  she  should  do  to  make 
him  grow  ;  and  Jupiter,  or  Minerva,  or  some 
of  the  wise  ones,  told  her  that  her  boy  should 
never  grow  till  he  had  a  brother ;  so,  present- 
ly he  had  a  brother,  and  Anteros  was  his 
name,  as  much  wiser  than  Cupid  as  you  are 
wiser  than  Rosamond,  my  dear ;  and  the  gods 
ordained  that,  whenever  Anteros  should  come 
near  Cupid,  Cupid  should  grow  up  ;  but, 
whenever  Anteros  should  go  away,  Cupid 
should  sink  down  again ;  so  he  ended  by  be- 
ing the  little  fellow  he  is.  Just  as  Rosamond 
grows  in  sense  when  Laura  conies  near,  and 
sinks  down  again  when  Laura  goes  away. 
O,  a  capital  allusion  !  if  I  could  but  make  it 
out  neatly  ;  Folliot  Brown  shall  do  it  for  me ; 
and  it  pays  me  for  losing  my  day.  Tremble 
for  to-morrow  ! — you  see  I  am  no  fool.  Trem- 
ble, guardian  angels  all ! ' 

The  morning  of  the  fourth  day  came,  and 
Godfrey  this  day  began,  not  with  How  ridic- 
ulous, but  with  l  How  beautiful !  My  dear 
Laura  !  my  dear  Rosamond  !  How  beauti- 
fully you  have  done  this  drawing  !  which  of 
you  did  it?' 

'  It  is  Laura's  drawing  for  my  pendule- 
case,'  said  Rosamond.  '  It  is  to  be  in  a  tablet 
at  the  bottom;  won't  it  be  beautiful?  It  is 
Guido's  Aurora  and  the  dancing  Hours ;    has 


96  EARLY   LESSONS. 

not  Laura  diminished  them  well  from  that 
large  engraving?' 

'  Admirably,  indeed  !  But  what  are  these 
little  winged  creatures  in  the  circle  above  V 

'  Those  are  the  Minutes,  the  little  winged 
Minutes  flying  away;  and  the  motto,'  contin- 
ued Rosamond,  eagerly,  '  the  motto  is  mine, 
Franklin's  I  mean,  but  of  my  choosing  for  the 
clock-case ;  pray  listen  to  the  motto,  Godfrey, 
- — Take  care  of  the  minutes,  and  the  hours 
will  take  care  of  themselves.' 

Godfrey  admired  the  motto,  and  went  on  ad- 
miring every  thing  that  was  shown  to  him,  till 
he  so  far  succeeded  in  engaging  the  attention 
of  both  the  pleased  artists,  that  he  flattered 
himself  they  would  take  care  neither  of  the 
minutes  nor  the  hours.  But,  even  in  the  midst 
of  a  compliment  he  was  paying  to  Laura's 
Apollo  and  to  the  ease  with  which  he  held 
the  reins,  Laura,  faithful  to  her  charge,  point- 
ed to  the  watch,  and  reminded  Rosamond 
that  it  was  time  to  depart. 

1  But  surely  she  is  not  tied  to  a  minute, 
more  or  less,'  said  Godfrey  ;  '  don't  drive  her 
away  yet,  time  enough  yet ;  stay,  Rosamond, 
don't  take  your  portfolio  away,  I  have  not 
half  looked  it  over.' 

'  There's  my  portfolio,'  said  Rosamond, 
( keep  it  as  long  as  you  please ;  but  I  must  go, 
my  dear  Godfrey ;  I  must  be  punctual ;  Mrs. 
Egerton  likes  it;  and,  as  mother  says,  when 
we  do  any  thing  for  our  friends,  we  should 
take  care  to  do  it  in  the  way  which  they  like.' 


ROSAMOND.  97 

c  Ay,  do  it  then  in  the  way  Mrs.  Egerton 
likes,'  cried  Godfrey,  then  really  vexed.  '  So 
tiresome  !  so  ridiculous  to  hear  of  nothing  but 
Mrs.  Egerton.  I  begin  absolutely  to  hate  the 
sound  of  that  woman's  name.' 

'  Because  you  know  nothing  of  her,  but  her 
name,'  said  Rosamond.  '  Only  come  with 
me,  Godfrey,  and  see  her ;  I  know  that  she 
and  Dr.  Egerton  are  just  such  people  as  you 
would  like  ;  do  come.' 

'  Not  I,'  answered  Godfrey.  'I  know  enough 
of  them  already.' 

'You!    How?' 

'  O,  that's  a  secret.  I  know  as  well  as  if  I 
had  lived  with  them  a  hundred  years,  what 
they  are;  just  people  I  would  go  a  hun- 
dred miles  to  avoid.  Some  of  your  mighty 
good,  precise,  dull  folks,  who  think  it  a  prodi- 
gious virtue  to  do  every  thing  to  a  minute  by 
their  watches  and  their  clocks ;  the  very  rea- 
son I  can't  bear  them;  people  who,  as  Folliott 
Brown  says, — 

Go  at  set  hours  to  dinner  and  prayer, 
For  dullness  ever  must  be  regular.5 

1  Bad  rhyme,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  And  no  reason,'  said  Laura. 

'  But  are  you  gone?'  said  Godfrey,  catch- 
ing Rosamond's  arm  as  she  passed. 

'  Yes,  gone  ;  for,  as  there  is  neither  rhyme 
nor  reason  in  what  you  are  saying,  brother,' 
said  she,  '  I  had  better  not  stay  any  longer  to 

VOL.  II.      9 


98  EARLY    LESSONS. 

hear  it,  lest  you  should  laugh  at  me  as  yoti 
did  yesterday.  You  see  I  am  not  so  very 
foolish  to-day ;  you  see  I  have  not  grown 
down  again  to-day.  I  am  not  ashamed  to 
take  the  advice  of  a  good  friend  ;  if  I  were, 
brother,  you  might  with  justice  laugh  at  me 
the  moment  I  shut  the  door  ;  and  yon  might 
say,  How  ridiculous  !  and  make,  or  get  some- 
body else  to  make  a  fable  on  me.  You  need 
not  blush  so  very  much ;  I  am  not  angry,  be- 
cause I  am  in  the  right.     Goodbye.' 

Godfrey  stood  for  a  moment  silent  and 
ashamed,  but,  recovering  himself,  he  blamed 
Laura.  '  This  is  not  fair,  Laura,'  said  he, 
to  repeat  what  I  said.' 

1  Perfectly  fair,'  said  Laura.  £  Recollect,  I 
gave  you  warning  from  the  beginning  that  I 
should  do  so.' 

'  O,  that  I  had  kept  my  fable  and  my  wit 
to  myself,'  cried  Godfrey.  '  But  it  is  good  to 
have  such  a  skilful  enemy ;  many  a  man,  as 
some  great  general  said,  has  learned  how  to 
conquer  by  being  defeated.' 

'  You  are  in  a  fair  way  to  victory  then,' 
said  Laura. 

The  next  morning,  the  fifth  day  of  trial, 
Godfrey  did  not  come  till  Rosamond  began  to 
think  be  would  not  make  his  appearance  at 
all.  He  burst  into  the  room  exclaiming,  The 
Panorama  of  Athens !  Orlando  and  I  are  go- 
ing to  it ! ' 

'  Are  you,  indeed  ? '  said  Rosamond. 

1  Yes  ;    and    mother    says    you    may   go 


ROSAMOND.  99 

with  us,  Rosamond ;  so  come — on  with  your 
bonnet.' 

'  But,5  said  Rosamond,  drawing  back,  '  I 
cannot  go  now  ;  cannot  you  be  so  kind  as  to 
go  one  hour  later?' 

'  No ;  now  or  never,'  said  Godfrey. 

*  It  mast  be  never  for  me,  then,'  said  Rosa- 
mond, sorrowfully,  '  for  I  cannot  break  my 
resolution ;  in  five  minutes  it  will  be  my  hour 
for  Mrs.  Egerton.' 

1  Nonsense,  child  !  would  you  really  give 
up  seeing  Athens  1  Consider  what  it  is  to  see 
Athens  !  Very  different  from  seeing  London,' 
continued  Godfrey,  chucking  her  under  the 
chin,  as  she  stood  with  a  face  of  deep  consid- 
eration ;  '  would  you  give  up  seeing  Athens 
for  the  sake  of  going  at  an  appointed  hour  to 
read  Scotch,  which  you  can't  read,  to  an  old 
woman  who  can't  hear ?  How  ridiculous! 
and  how  people  continually  mistake  their  own 
motives,  and  sacrifice  to  vanity  when  they 
fancy  they  are  sacrificing  to  friendship,  and 
virtue,  and  generosity,  and  all  that.  How 
very  ridiculous  !' 

Rosamond  colored ;  but,  after  a  look  at 
Laura,  answered,  with  composure,  '  Laugh 
on,  laugh  on,  brother;  I  can  bear  to  be  laugh- 
ed at.  When  I  know  I  am  right,  Godfrey. 
even  your  ridicule  can  do  me  no  harm ;  can 
it,  Laura'?' 

(  Then,'  said  Godfrey,  '  I  may  laugh  on 
with  a  safe  conscience ;  thank  you,  Rosa- 
mond,   but    I    have    no    time    for    it    now. 


100  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Hark !  Orlando  calls ;  decide,  Egerton  or 
Athens. 

'  I  cannot  go  with  you,  Godfrey,'  said  Rosa- 
mond, '  if  you  must  go  now.' 

'I  must;  goodbye,'  said  he,  going  to  the 
door. 

'  Goodbye,'  said  Rosamond.  He  went  out 
of  the  room,  but,  holding  the  door  half  open, 
put  his  head  back  again,  looking  at  her  for 
her  last  words. 

'  Goodbye,'  repeated  Rosamond,  steadily. 

'  How  ridiculous  ! '  cried  he  ;  and,  clapping 
to  the  door,  he  run  down  stairs. 

'  Victory  over  myself ! '  cried  Rosamond, 
'  and  the  hardest  fought  battle  I  have  had 
yet,'  added  she,  turning  to  Laura,  who  con- 
gratulated her  with  looks  of  affectionate  ap- 
probation ;  and,  suppressing  a  sigh  for  Athens, 
she  went  to  her  old  friend.  So  ended  her  fifth 
day's  trial. 

At  dinner,  when  they  next  met,  Godfrey 
was  loud  in  the  praises  of  the  Panorama; 
and  Orlando,  and  his  father,  and  mother,  ex- 
pressed surprise  that  Rosamond  did  not  ac- 
cept of  the  invitation  to  go  with  her  brothers. 
Rosamond,  when  her  mother  questioned  her, 
said,  '  I  will  tell  you  all,  mother,  at  the  end 
of  four  days  more  ;  don't  ask  me  till  then. 
Trust  me,  mother  ;  trust  me,  father  ;  trust 
me,  Orlando  ;  I  have  a  good  reason.  It  is  a 
trial  of  power  between  Godfrey  and  me.' 

'  Very  well,  my  dear,  I  will  ask  no  more,' 
said  her  mother,  '  till  you  choose  to  tell  me 


ROSAMOND.  101 

more,  only  remember,  trials  of  power  are  dan- 
gerous things  between  friends.5 

'  The  very  words  that  Laura  said  when 
I  was  going  to  sleep  last  night,'  cried  Rosa- 
mond. 

1  But  it  is  no  wager,  mother,'  said  Godfrey. 

{ And  since  we  have  begun,  do  pray  let  us 
go  through  with  it,  mother,  if  you  please,' 
said  Rosamond.  '  Because,  my  dear  mother, 
you  must  know  that  I  have  won  five  days, 
that  is,  I  have  stood  steady  five  days,  and  I 
have  only  four  days  more  of  trial,  and  it  will 
be  a  victory  over  myself;  and  that,  you  know, 
both  father  and  you  like  V 

1  Divert  yourselves  your  own  way,  my 
children,'  said  her  father.  '  I  trust  to  you, 
and  do  not  wish  to  know  your  little  secrets, 
nor  to  meddle  with  all  your  little  affairs.' 

Godfrey,  perceiving  that  it  had  cost  Rosa-, 
mond  much  to  give  up  the  Panorama  of  Ath- 
ens, and  that  she  had  particularly  felt  the  rid- 
icule he  had  thrown  upon  this  sacrifice,  judg- 
ed it  best  to  pursue  the  same  mode  of  attack 
on  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day's  trial.  In 
one  half  of  this  judgment  he  was  right,  the 
other  half  was  wrong.  The  giving  Rosa- 
mond an  opportunity  of  making  a  sacrifice 
for  a  friend  was  the  way  to  attach,  instead  of 
detaching  her  from  that  friend.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was  the  chance  that  the 
ridicule  thrown  on  the  sacrifice  might  make 
her  give  it  up  as  worthless. 

'  Well,  Rosamond,'    cried  he,   '  I  hope  you 


102  EARLY   LESSONS. 

will  accompany  us  to-day ;  we  are  going  to  a 
better  thing  than  the  Panorama  of  Athens.' 

'  Better  !  what  can  that  be?  Better,'  said 
Rosamond,   '  than  the  Panorama  of  Athens  ! ' 

'  Athens  itself,'  replied  Godfrey.  '  What 
do  you  think  of  the  Elgin  marbles  l  We  are 
going  to  the  British  Museum,  and  you  may 
come  with  us  if  you  will  give  up  your  non- 
sense.'' 

' 1  cannot.  Godfrey,  give  up  going  to  Mrs. 
Egerton ;  yet  perhaps  I  can  change  the  hour, 
and  go  to  her  before  we  set  out,  or  after  we 
return.' 

Godfrey,  seeing  her  ready  to  give  up  so 
much,  thought  he  could  now  gain  his  whole 
point. 

'  No,  no,'  said  he,  l  changing  the  hour  will 
not  do,  Rosamond  ;  all  or  nothing  ;  we  must 
have  the  whole  day  for  the  Museum,  we  must 
go  as  early  as  possible  ;  so  take  your  choice, 
Elgin  marbles  or  Pinchbonnet !  Come,  don't 
be  ridiculous  ! ' 

1  Nothing  very  ridiculous  in  keeping  my 
resolution,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Very  ridiculous,  if  it  be  a  ridiculous  reso- 
lution,' said  Godfrey. 

'  But  there's  the  point  to  be  decided,'  said 
Laura. 

'  Aye,,_j  there  is  the  point,'  said  Godfrey. 
'  Well,  ^acknowledge  Rosamond  is  quite  sub- 
lime in  giving  up  the  Elgin  marbles ;  superior 
in  friendship  to  Achilles  himself;  for  he  sac- 
rificed only  a  hundred   oxen,  or  a  hundred 


ROSAMOND.  103 

swine,  to  his  beloved  Patroclus ;  but  Rosa- 
mond sacrifices  a  hecatomb  of  gods  and  demi- 
gods to  her  dearly  beloved  Mrs.  Pinchbonnet. 
I  must  tell  this  to  Folliott  Brown.' 

Rosamond  laughed,  but,  with  a  little  mix- 
ture of  shame  in  her  laughter,  she  asked, 
'  Pray  who  is  Folliott  Brown?' 

'  The  cleverest  young  man  I  know,'  replied 
Godfrey  ;  '  the  best  of  classical  scholars,  the 
best  quizzer,  and  the  greatest  lover  of  fun.' 

'  Fun  !  quizzer  !  I  hate  those  school-boy 
words,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  You  mean  that  you  hate  to  be  quizzed,' 
said  Godfrey.  '  Then  take  care  if  ever  you 
see  Folliott  Brown,  and  don't  let  him  get  to 
your  ridiculous  side,  my  dear,  for  no  mortal 
can  seize  it  better.     Quizzing  is  his  delight.' 

'  You  know  father  hates  quizzing,'  said 
Rosamond,   '  and  it  is  very  vulgar.' 

1  Very  likely  ;  but  Folliott  Brown  is  very 
fashionable  ;  and  I  know  if  he  were  to  get 
hold  of  it  he  would  enjoy  your  classical  sac- 
rifice to  friendship  most  amazingly  ;  just  the 
thing  for  him  !  So  if  you  don't  go  with  us  to 
the  Elgin  marbles,  he  shall  have  it,  my  dear 
sister.' 

'  Very  kind  indeed  to  your  dear  sister,  to 
make  her  your  sport  and  your  butt  with  your 
friends,'  said  Rosamond,  evidently  much  dis- 
turbed. 

'  But  did  not  my  dear  sister  tell  me  to  laugh 
on,  and  that  she  could  bear  to  be  laughed  at?' 

'  And  so  I  can,  and  so  I  will,'    cried  Rosa- 


104  EARLY   LESSONS. 

mond  ;    '  but  all  I  say  is,  that  it  is  not  very 
kind,  Godfrey.' 

'  Come,  come,  my  dear  little  Rosamond,' 
said  he  in  a  coaxing  tone,  '  don't  let  that  old 
witch  of  Egerton,  worse  than  the  witch  of 
Endor,  make  us  quarrel  about  nothing.  Give 
up  the  point  in  a  gracious,  graceful,  feminine 
way,  and  be  my  own  dear  Rosamond.  You'll 
come  with  me  then  to  the  Elgin  marbles  ! 
Yes,  and  write  an  apology  to  Mrs.  Pinchbon- 
net.' 

Rosamond  shook  her  head. 

'  But  consider,  these  are  my  holidays,'  con- 
tinued Godfrey ;  '  and  surely,  Rosamond,  you 
ought  to  indulge  me  with  your  company.' 

'  O,  Godfrey,  how  you  try  persuasion,  when 
you  see  that  ridicule  will  not  do,'  said  Rosa- 
mond. 

Godfrey  could  not  refrain  from  smiling. 

1  But,  after  all,'  said  he,  '  what  an  abomin- 
able selfish  creature  this  precious  old  Pinch- 
bonnet  must  be,  not  to  give  up  her  little 
amusement  to  your  great  pleasure.' 

'  There  you  are  quite  mistaken,'  said  Rosa- 
mond ;  '  for,  when  Laura  told  her  that  I  had 
given  up  the  Panorama  of  Athens,  she  was 
exceedingly  sorry,  and  she  begged  me  not  to 
come  to  her  again  during  your  holidays ;  she 
said  she  could  not  bear  to  take  me  from  you. 
But  I  told  her  that  it  was  easy  to  arrange 
matters,  so  that  I  should  lose  none  of  your 
company,  because  I  could  always  go  to  her 
at  the  time  when  you  are  busy  at  your  Latin 


ROSAMOND.  105 

and  Greek.  You  know  that  you  must  be  at 
least  an  hour  a  day  at  your  studies ;  and,  if 
you  will  tell  me  your  hour,  Godfrey,  we  can 
settle  it  so,  and  all  will  be  right,  and  I  can  go 
to  the  Elgin  marbles,  if  you  please.' 

'  That  will  never  do,'  said  Godfrey ;  '  for 
I  like  to  have  my  Latin  hour  at  night,  when 
I  go  up  to  bed,  and  then  I  lose  nothing  by 
day.' 

'  But  I  cannot  go  to  Mrs.  Egerton  at  night,' 
said  Rosamond. 

'  So  I  say;  therefore  you  must  give  it  up,' 
said  Godfrey. 

'  Who  is  selfish  now,  Godfrey  ? '  said  Laura. 
'  You  fix  your  hour  at  night  that  you  may 
lose  nothing ;  yet  you  will  not  give  up  any 
thing  for  Rosamond,  or  for  Mrs.  Egerton's 
pleasure.' 

'  Why  should  I  give  up  any  thing  to  Mrs. 
Egerton  ?  She  is  not  my  friend,  I  am  sure,' 
replied  Godfrey. 

1  But  I  am  your  friend,  I  hope,'  said  Rosa- 
mond ;  '  and  yet  you  will  not  do  this  for  me  '1 
But  you  are  only  trying  your  power  over  me, 
brother;  and  all  you  want  is  to  gain  your 
point' 

'  Rosamond,'  cried  Godfrey,  '  you  really 
are  growing  too  cunning,  too  suspicious.' 

'  If  I  am  growing  a  little  suspicious,  I  know 
who  has  made  me  so,'  replied  Rosamond. 
'Deceiving,  even  in  play,  or  trying  to  deceive, 
makes  one  suspicious ;  you  know,  Godfrey, 
the  speech  of  your  own  favorite,  Achilles  : — 


106  EARLY   LESSONS. 

But  once  deceiv'd  was  his,  but  twice  were  mine.' 

Godfrey  felt  the  force  of  these  words,  and 
stood  for  minute  silent ;  then  turning  upon 
his  heel,  said,  '  I've  begun  with  it,  and  I'll 
go  through  with  it ;  I  will  not  give  up.' 

During  the  remainder  of  this  day,  and  of 
the  next,  Godfrey  never  recurred  to  the  sub- 
ject, never  mentioned  the  name  of  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton,  nor  made  the  slightest  attempt  to  prevent 
Rosamond,  either  by  ridicule  or  persuasion, 
from  adhering  to  her  resolution.  But  wheth- 
er this  proceeded  from  forgetfulness  or  design, 
from  his  wish  to  lull  Rosamond's  caution  to 
sleep,  or  from  repenting  of  his  having  engag- 
ed in  a  trial  unworthy  of  him ;  whether,  in 
fact,  his  thoughts  were  taken  up  with  his 
friend  Folliott  Brown,  with  whom  he  spent 
the  morning  of  the  seventh  day,  are  historic 
doubts  not  easy  to  solve. 

Laura  could  not  believe  that  Godfrey  had 
given  up  his  point,  and  this  was  very  provok- 
ing to  Rosamond. 

'  Consider,'  said  Rosamond,  '  there  are  but 
two  days  more  to  come  of  my  trial ;  I  may 
surely  look  back  on  the  hardest  part,  and 
laugh.  Besides,  you  see,  Laura,  that  God- 
frey's head  has  turned  quite  to  other  things  ; 
he  can  think  of  nothing  now  but  his  friend 
Folliott  Brown,  and  those  lines  he  has  writ- 
ten— The  Parguinote's  Farewell  to  his  Coun- 
try— which,  by  the  bye,  are  beautiful.  Folli- 
ott Brown  must  be   a  young  man  of  great 


ROSAMOND.  107 

genius  and  feeling ;  and,  besides,  he  says  the 
Foliiott  Browns  are  all  very  fashionable.  I 
am  so  glad  we  shall  meet  all  the  Browns  at 
Monsieur  Deschamp's  ball  to-morrow.  God- 
frey,' continued  Rosamond,  '  really  thinks 
that  nothing  is  right  or  fashionable  bat  what 
they  say  or  do ;  and  that  every  thing  is  wrong 
and  ridiculous  that  they  laugh  at.  How  very 
full  poor  Godfrey's  head  is  of  these  Foliiott 
Browns  ! ' 

1  And  I  think  he  has  filled  your  head  with 
them  too,  has  he  not,  Rosamond'?'  said  her 
mother,  who  came  into  the  room  while  Rosa- 
mond was  finishing  this  speech. 

1  No,  mother,  not  at  all,'  said  Rosamond  ; 
c  you  don't  know  all  I  am  thinking  of;  I  am 
only  curious  to  know  whether  Godfrey  has 
really  given  up  a  certain  trial  of  power.' 

The  next  time  she  saw  him,  she  said,  in  a 
secure  tone,  '  Godfrey,  do  you  recollect  ? 
There  are  only  two  days  more  to  come ! ' 

He  was  silent,  but  he  had  not  his  trium- 
phant look. 

Godfrey's  father  remarked  that  his  son  had 
of  late  constantly  used  the  words  fashionable 
and  right,  as  if  they  meant  always  one  and 
the  same  thing ;  and  observed  that  Godfrey 
continually  spoke  of  his  friend,  Foliiott 
Brown,  as  if  Tfe  were  the  supreme  judge  of 
taste,  and  manners,  and  morals,  and  litera- 
ture. It  happened  that,  just  after  his  father 
had  been  rallying  him  on  this  subject,  and 
before  he  had  well   recovered  from  the  sur- 


108  EARLY   LESSONS. 


prise  he  felt  at  hearing  Folliott  Brown's  in 
fallibility  questioned,  Rosamond  came  into 
the  room,  and,  not  knowing  what  had  passed, 
increased  his  vexation  by  whispering,  '  Re- 
member, brother,  this  is  the  last  day  but  one.' 

1  The  ides  of  March  are  come,  but  not  past, 
Rosamond  ! '  said  Godfrey. 

Alarmed  by  this  speech,  she  prepared  for 
some  new  attack  ;  but  nothing  was  said,  till, 
just  as  she  was  setting  out  for  Mrs.  Egorton's, 
Godfrey  exclaimed,  '  Surely,  Rosamond,  on 
such  a  day  as  this,  on  the  day  of  the  dancing- 
master's  ball,  when  you  must  have  so  much 
to  do  and  to  think  of  for  yourself,  you  cannot 
be  so  very  kind  to  your  old  friend,  Mrs.  Eg- 
erton,  as  to  give  up  an  hour,  a  whole  hour,  to 
her?' 

'  Yes,  but  I  can,  and  I  shall,  as  you  will 
see,'  said  Rosamond,  leaving  the  room  with 
dignity. 

'  Magnanimously  said  !  Magnanimously 
looked  !  Magnanimously  done  ! '  cried  God- 
frey, turning  to  Laura.  '  But,  as  we  have 
been  told,  you  know,  there  is  but  one  step 
between  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous.' 

'  And,  as  we  may  know,  without  being 
told,'  answered  Laura ;  '  it  depends  upon 
every  body's  own  sense,  whether  they  will 
take  that  step  or  not.' 

'  What  steps  people  take,  do  not  always 
depend  upon  their  own  sense,  nor  upon  the 
sense  of  their  friends,'  retorted  Godfrey.  '  We 
shall  see,  we  shall  see;  I  don't  ask  you  now, 


ROSAMOND.  109 

my  dear,  not  to  put  Rosamond  on  her  guard, 
because  I  see  you  can't  do  it.  You  have  done 
your  best — you  have  done  your  very  best ; 
but  your  mistake  was,  my  dear,  you  trusted 
to  reason  instead  of  wit.  How  ridiculous  ! 
To  a  woman,  and  from  a  woman  !  How  ri- 
diculous ! ' 

Monsieur  Deschamps'  ball  was  delightful, 
we  will  not  say  beyond  all  power,  but  cer- 
tainly beyond  any  need  of  description.  Many 
of  the  relations  of  the  young  ladies,  his  pupils, 
were  there;  and  Godfrey  accompanied  his 
sisters.  Rosamond  was  amazingly  charmed 
with  the  beauty,  elegance,  and  fashion,  which 
then,  for  the  first  time,  struck  her  eyes,  and 
perhaps  her  imagination,  in  the  persons,  dress, 
and  air  of  the  Misses  Folliott  Brown,  and  of  the 
Lady  Frances  Folliott  Brown,  their  mother. 

Godfrey's  friend  appeared  also  an  object  of 
universal  admiration ;  not  among  the  younger 
part  of  the  little  assembly,  for  these  Folliott 
Brown  scarcely  condescended  to  notice  ;   and 
therefore,  resenting  his  disdain,  they  confess- 
ed that  they  could  not  like,  or  did  not  under- 
stand him ;  but  the  mothers  and  matrons,  who 
presided  as  judges  and  spectators  of  the  ball ; 
j  and  the  elder  sisters,   the  grown  up  young 
i  ladies,  those  enviable,  envied  beings,  who  go 
out,  or  who  come  out,  who  are  in  the  world  ; 
j  in  short,  who  know  all  that  is  right,  and  all 
that  is  wrong,  as  to  dress,  fashion,  men,  and 
j  manners,  each  in  their  coteries  apart,  allowed 
|  Folliott  Brown  to  be  quite  charming  !     Some 


110  EARLY   LESSONS. 

praised  his  poetry,  and  others  admired  the 
tying  of  his  neckcloth. 

In  the  intervals  between  the  quadrilles, 
Rosamond,  when  she  sat  down  beside  differ- 
ent parties  of  young  ladies,  heard  much  that 
was  said  to  this  purpose ;  and  the  high  opin- 
ion, with  which  Godfrey  had  prepossessed 
her  in  favor  of  his  friend,  was  thus  increased 
by  the  voice  of  numbers,  and  still  more  by 
their  looks. 

Mr.  Folliott  Brown  was  some  years  older 
than  her  brother ;  there  was  between  him  and 
Godfrey  all  the  difference  of  pretensions,  which 
usually  appear  between  a  school-boy  of  the 
higer  forms,  and  a  young  man  at  the  univer- 
sity. Bat  former  friendship  attached  him  to 
his  school-fellow  ;  and  Godfrey,  feeling  pride 
in  his  notice,  increased  Rosamond's  high 
opinion  of  his  talents.  They  were  indeed 
considerable.  Nothing  he  said  however  this 
night  justified  his  reputation  in  Laura's  opin- 
ion ;  but  Rosamond,  overawed  and  dazzled, 
thought  she  was  in  the  wrong  when  she  did 
not  admire,  and  listened  still  in  expectation 
of  something  more.  Rosamond  was  just  at 
that  age  when  girls  do  not  join  in  conversa- 
tion, but  when  they  sit  modestly  silent,  and 
have  leisure,  if  they  have  sense,  to  judge  of 
what  others  say,  and  to  form  by  choice,  and 
not  by  chance,  their  opinions  of  what  goes  on 
in  that  great  world,  into  which  they  have  not 
yet  entered. 

Mr.  Folliott  Brown  was  much  too  grand  a 


ROSAMOND.  Ill 

person  to  dance  at  such  a  ball  as  this ;  and 
Godfrey  also  this  night  seemed  to  prefer  talk- 
ing to  dancing.  At  supper,  Rosamond,  sep- 
arated from  Godfrey,  from  Laura,  aod  from 
her  mother,  was  seated  at  a  small  table  with 
the  young  people  of  her  quadrille.  Godfrey, 
who  had  his  own  object  in  view,  contrived  to 
persuade  one  of  the  young  ladies  near  him  to 
be  afraid  of  catching  cold  from  the  wind  ol 
some  terrible  window  or  door,  and  he  made 
Rosamond  change  places  with  her,  declaring, 
at  the  same  time,  that  Rosamond  never  in  her 
life  had  been  known  'to  catch  cold.  She  saw 
that  her  brother  did  this  on  purpose  to  get  her 
near  him  and  his  friend,  and  among  the  Fol- 
liott  Browns,  at  whose  table  he  was  sitting. 
She  felt  obliged  to  him  for  his  good-nature, 
smiled  at  the  manoeuvre  in  her  own  favor, 
and  enjoyed  her  situation.  She  found  Folli- 
ott  Brown  very  entertaining,  and  she  thought 
his  sisters  charming,  though,  in  truth,  they 
and  their  partners  talked  only  of  a  number  of 
fine  people,  whom  Rosamond  had  never  seen 
nor  heard  of;  so  that  beforehand  it  might  have 
been  imagined  that  the  conversation  could  not 
in  any  way  have  interested  her.  How  it 
happened  that  she  was  so  much  pleased,  we 
know  not ;  but  so  it  was.  Godfrey's  *  How 
ridiculous  ! '  perpetually  recurred.  From  any 
of  the  Folliott  Browns  the  expression  was  de- 
cisive, against  any  thing  or  person  on  whom 
this  sentence  was  thus  pronounced.  At  length, 
when  ail  had  supped,  and  all  had  talked,  in 


112  EARLY   LESSONS. 

one  of  those  intervals  of  silence,  which  occur 
even  among  the  wittiest,  the  wisest,  and  the 
most  indefatigable  talkers,  Godfrey  took  his 
opportunity  to  ask  his  friend,  whether  he  was 
not  related  to  the  Egertons,  to  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Egerton. 

'  Distantly.  Thank  heaven  !  only  distant- 
ly,' was  Folliott  Brown's  answer. 

'  But  are  not  they  delightful  people  V  said 
Godfrey. 

Folliott  and  his  sisters  interchanged  looks, 
which  sufficiently  expressed  their  opinions. 

'  Delightful  people  !  How  ridiculous  !  Who 
could  have  put  that  into  your  head?'  said 
Folliott. 

I  A  friend  of  mine,'  replied  Godfrey. 
Rosamond  blushed  ;  she  did  not  well  know 

why,  and  wished  not  to  be  named. 

'  A  judicious  friend,  no  doubt,'  said  Folliott 
Brown.  '  But  I  admire  his  judgment  more 
than  his  taste.     Your  old  tutor,  may  be'?' 

'  No,  no,'  said  Godfrey,  laughing.  '  Very 
far  from  the  mark ;  neither  a  tutor,  nor 
old.' 

'  Then  one  who  has  a  grey  head  upon  green 
shoulders,  it  seems,'  said  Folliott ;  '  and  that, 
to  my  fancy,  is  an  unbecoming  mixture.' 

'  So  ridiculous  ! '  said  one  of  the  Misses 
Brown. 

'  So  unnatural ! '  said  the  other. 

I I  like  for  young  people  to  be  young ;  I 
hate  what  you  call  a  wise  young  person,  don't 
you?'  said  another  young  lady  to  her  partner, 


ROSAMOND.  113 

who  perfectly  agreed /with  her,  but  was  more 
intent  upon  a  glass  of  champagne. 

'  But  do  you  know,'  continued  Miss  Brown, 
1 1  have  a  little  cousin — Helen  Egerton,  you 
know,  Folliott — who,  by  living  so  much  with 
old  people,  poor  little  thing,  has  really  got 
that  sort  of  grey-head-upon-green-shoulders 
look,  which,  as  you  say,  is  so  unnatural,  so 
affected,  so  ridiculous  ! ' 

Rosamond,  sitting  in  all  the  agony  of  con- 
sciousness, felt  as  if  she  really  had  a  grey 
head  on  green  shoulders,  and  as  if  every  body 
was  looking  at  it.  But  nobody  was  looking 
at  her  j  and  though  what  was  said  seemed, 
she  thought,  as  if  aimed  at  her,  it  was  in  fact 
mere  random  nonsense. 

( Affected ! '  said  Miss  Annetta  Folliott 
Brown.  '  No — now  really  I  acquit  poor 
Helen  Egerton  of  affectation ;  but  some  peo- 
ple have  the  misfortune  to  have  that  formal, 
wizzen  old  look  and  way,  and  really  like  to 
be  with  old  people.  Now,  for  my  part,  I 
think  young  people  should  always  be  with 
young  people.' 

'  Always  !  always  !  always  ! '  was  echoed 
round  the  table  by  all  but  Rosamond. 

'  Nemine  contradicente  !  we  have  it,'  cried 
Folliott  Brown,  for  Rosamond's  silence  was 
perceived  only  by  Godfrey.  In  this  company 
she  was  of  too  little  consequence  to  have  a 
voice.  When  Folliott,  looking  round,  again 
repeated,    '  Nemine  contradicente !   I  should 

VOL.  II.      10 


114  EARLY    LESSONS. 

like  to  hear  from  ruby  lips  a  dissentient  voice, 
she  longed  to  speak,  but  dared  not.     '  Shak- 
spere,'  continued  Folliott  Brown,   '  and  who 
understood  the  human  heart  and  life  in  all  its 
ages  better  than  Shakspere?  tells  us  that — 

Crabbed  age  and  youth 
Cannot  live  together  ; 
Youth  is  full  of  pleasance, 
Age  is  full  of  care.5 

1  O,  go  on,  delightful ! '  said  one  of  the  young 
ladies.  '  Such  a  charming  old  word — pleas- 
ance !     O,  go  on ;  I  do  doat  so  on  Shakspere.' 

1  I  forget  the  rest ;  I  have  the  worst  memo- 
ry in  the  world,'  said  Folliott.  '  But  I  know 
it  ends  with — 

Age,  I  do  abhor  thee ; 
Y'outh,  I  do  adore  thee.' 

1  Miss  Rosamond,  let  me  help  you  to  some 
grapes ;  won't  you  take  an  orange?'  said  Miss 
Folliott  Brown,  observing  Rosamond's  uneasy 
look,  and  attributing  it  to  displeasure  at  not 
having  been  sufficiently  attended  to. 

This  was  vexatious ;  but  Rosamond  accept- 
ed of  the  orange,  and  began  to  peel  it,  that 
she  might  have  some  employment  for  her 
hands  and  eyes.  Godfrey  was  sorry  for  her ; 
but,  as  he  thought  this  his  last,  best  chance 
of  gaining  his  point,  he  was  anxious  that  the 
conversation  should  go  on.  '  But  pray,  after 
all,  what  sort  of  people  are  Mrs.  Egerton  and 
Dr.  Egerton?' 

'  O  !  I  don't  know,'  answered  Miss  Folliott 


ROSAMOND.  115 

Brown.  '  Mighty  good  people,  you  know ; 
but  people  one  never  meets,  one  never  hears 
of  any  where  but  in  the  country.' 

1  Vastly  too  good,'  said  Miss  Annetta ;  l  very 
good  family  to  be  sure;  mother's  relations; 
but  old-fashioned,  old  people,  old  Manor 
House,  old-mannered  people.  Stupid ;  just 
what  you  call  quizzes  ! ' 

'  Aye,  quizzes  ! '  cried  Folliott.  '  Quizzes, 
bores  ;  and  bores,  you  know,  should  be  hunt- 
ed out  of  society.' 

'  Very  good  ! '  said  a  young  lady. 

'  O,  the  Egertons,  though  they  are  connex- 
ions of  ours,  are  very  stupid,  shockingly  good, 
quite  quizzes ! ' 

These  sentences  were  repeated  by  the 
Misses  Brown  and  their  brother  all  together 
in  chorus.  Godfrey,  declaring  he  had  heard 
quite  a  different  description  of  the  Egertons, 
urged  on  the  conversation,  till  all  grew  eager 
in  support  of  their  opinions,  and  each  told 
some  anecdote,  that  placed  Mrs.  Egerton,  or 
her  brother,  in  a  ridiculous  point  of  view. 
Rosamond  was  convinced  that,  of  these  anec- 
dotes, many  were  absolutely  false,  others  ex- 
aggerated, and  others  no  way  disgraceful  to 
any  human  creature  ;  as  they  proved  only  that 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Egerton  were  careful  to  do  what 
they  thought  right,  and  that  they  did  not  ap- 
prove of  folly  and  extravagance.  Yet  no  one 
circumstance  was  mentioned,  which  she  could 
absolutely  say  she  knew  to  be  false;  and  to 
contradict  the  opinions  of  those,   who  were 


116  EARLY    LESSONS. 

more  nearly  connected  with  the  Egertons,  and 
who  pretended  to  know  them  all  so  perfectly 
well,  required  some  courage.  Rosamond  had 
colored  and  colored  more  deeply,  and  had  be- 
come so  very  uneasy,  that  her  embarrassment 
was  now  visible  to  one  of  the  Misses  Brown, 
who  sat  opposite  to  her,  and  in  an  instant  af- 
terwards to  all  the  company.  Godfrey  sud- 
denly rose,  and  went  round  to  her  to  pick  up 
her  gloves,  for  which  she  stooped,  and,  in  a 
whisper,  as  he  returned  them  to  her,  said, 
1  Give  up  the  point,  and  I'll  bring  you  off.' 

'  Never,'  replied  a  look  from  Rosamond, 
which  made  Godfrey  not  a  little  asham- 
ed. 

'  Suppose  we  were  to  look  for  my  mother, 
and  Laura,  they  are  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room,'  said  he;  ' I've  a  notion  it  is  late,  and 
lime  to  go.' 

1  Aye  !  time  to  go  ! '  cried  Folliott  Brown. 
1  You  have  used  us  abominably !  I  have  a 
notion  you  have  exposed  us  all  to  your  judi- 
cious friend.' 

Rosamond  rose  hastily,  and  Godfrey  pick- 
ed up  her  dropped  fan. 

'  A  very  judicious  friend,  I  grant,'  pursued 
Folliott  Brown,  as  Godfrey  drew  her  arm 
within  his;  '  most  judiciously  silent.' 

Rosamond  resolutely  stopped,  as  Godfrey 
was  leading  her  away.  '  Silent  only  because 
I  had  not  the  courage  to  speak,'  said  she. 
'How  I  wish,'  added  she,  commanding  her 
trembling  voice,  '  that  I  could  be  a  judicious 


ROSAMOND.  117 

friend !  Such  a  one  as  Mrs.  Egerton  has  been 
to  me ! ' 

All  were  silent  for  an  instant.  Rosamond 
then  went  away  with  Godfrey  as  fast  as  he 
pleased.  She  thought  she  heard  from  behind 
her  the  sound  of  Hoiv  ridiculous  ! 

1 1  know  they  think  me  very  ridiculous,  but 
I  don't  mind  that,'  said  she. 

Godfrey  made  no  answer. 

'  O,  there  is  Laura  !  And  mother  I  see  is 
ready  to  go  !  I  am  so  glad ! '  cried  Rosa- 
mond. '  Godfrey,  will  you  come  with  us,  or 
will  you  walk  home  with  Mr.  Brown?' 

Godfrey,  without  making  any  answer,  run 
to  order  the  carriage  to  draw  up,  handed  his 
mother  and  sisters  into  it,  and  then  asked, 
'Can  you  make  room  for  me?' 

1  I  thought,  Godfrey,'  said  his  mother,  'that 
you  were  to  walk  home  with  your  friend,  Mr. 
Folliott  Brown?' 

Still  he  made  no  answer,  but,  keeping  his 
foot  on  the  step,  seemed  anxious  to  get  into 
the  carriage ;  immediately  Rosamond  squeez- 
ed herself  into  the  smallest  compass  possible 
and  made  room  for  him  between  her  and 
Laura.  The  carriage  door  shut  and  they 
drove  off.  After  some  minutes,  during  which 
Laura  and  her  mother  supported  the  conver- 
sation, her  mother  observed  that  they  had  not 
allowed  Rosamond  and  Godfrey  time  to  say 
a  word ;  time  was  now  given,  but  no  words 
were  heard  from  either. 


118  EARLY   LESSONS. 

I  Who  did  you  dance  with,  Godfrey  V  ask- 
ed his  mother. 

I I  don't  recollect,  mother ;  with  two  or 
three,'  said  Godfrey. 

'  Miss  Annetta  Brown,'  said  Laura,  '  was 
one  of  your  partners,  was  she  not?' 

'  Yes,  I  believe  so.  But  don't  talk  to  me 
of  any  thing  but  what  I  am  thinking  of,'  said 
Godfrey. 

'  And  how  are  we  to  find  out  that,  my  dear 
son  ! '  said  his  mother. 

1  O,  mother  !  I  don't  deserve  to  be  your 
dear  son  to  night.  But  here  is  one  who  does 
deserve  to  be  your  dear  daughter,'  said  God- 
frey, putting  Rosamond's  hand  into  his  moth- 
er's. '  Yes,  do  love  and  esteem  her,  mother 
and  Laura — she  deserves  it  well.' 

'  But  how  is  this  ]  Tears,  Rosamond,  I  can 
feel,  though  I  don't  see,'  said  her  mother,  as 
she  felt  them  drop  on  her  hand. 

'  Tears  of  my  causing,'  said  Godfrey. 

'  Caused  by  these  kind  words,  then,'  said 
Rosamond ;  '  for  they  never  came  till  this 
moment.' 

'  Laura,'  continued  Godfrey,  '  she  has  quite 
conquered  me ;  I  give  up  the  point ;  I  only 
wish  I  had  given  it  up  sooner,  for  I  have  been 
wrong,  very  wrong ;  but  then  she  has  been 
right,  very  right,  and  that  is  a  comfort.' 

'  You  are  always  generous  and  candid, 
Godfrey,'  said  Rosamond,  '  except — you  un- 
derstand me,'  added  she,  '  when  you  want  to 
try  your  power.     But  now  that  is  over.' 


ROSAMOND.  119 

c  Over  !  yes — over  for  ever  ! '  said  Godfrey. 
*  This  was  much  worse  than  Beauty's  God- 
dess, and  the  Airs  and  Graces ;  there  I  was 
right  in  the  main,  though  wrong  in  going  a 
little  too  far ;  but  here  1  was,  as  Laura  said 
from  the  first,  wrong  in  the  principle,  and  I 
felt  it  all  the  time.  I  knew  you  had  the  best 
of  the  argument ;  but  my  desire  to  show  my 
power  over  you,  and  to  gain  my  point,  my 
foolish  point,  made  me  go  on  from  one  step  to 
another.  I  really  did  not  mean  to  be  so  ill- 
natured  and  wrong  in  every  way  as  I  have 
been.  But  you  have  stood  steady,  and  there- 
fore  I  have  done  you  no  harm ;  but  I  might 
have  done  you  real  harm,  confusing  all  right 
and  wrong  as  I  did,  and  only  to  gain  my 
paltry  point.  But  you  have  the  victory,  and 
the  best  victory,  as  Laura  would  say,  over 
yourself;  and  I  am  sure,  let  all  those  people 
say  How  ridiculous  I  a  million  of  times  over, 
they  must  have  admired  and  respected  you 
at  that  moment  in  their  hearts ;  not  one  of 
them  could  have  done  it,  or  said  it ;  especially 
at  your  age  !  and  when  all  mouths  were  open, 
all  their  foolish  mouths,  and  mine  the  most 
foolish,  the  most  unpardonably  wrong  of  the 
whole  party,  were  against  you.  She  has 
stood  this  steadily  indeed,  Laura,  and  your 
opinion  oilier  was  right,  I  acknowledge,  and 
I  am  glad  of  it,  I  was  quite  wrong.' 

1 1  shall  be  very  glad,  my  dear  Godfrey, 
when  I  can  understand  the  wrongs  and  the 
rights  clearly,'  said  his  mother. 


120  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Godfrey  related  all  that  had  passed  during 
the  whole  of  this  nine  days'  trial;  and  he 
spared  himself  so  little,  and  did  such  justice 
to  both  his  sisters,  that  his  mother  found  it 
impossible  to  be  as  angry  with  him  as  she 
acknowledged  that  he  deserved  that  she 
should  be. 

'  There  is  one  favor  that  I  wish  to  ask  from 
you,  Godfrey,'  said  Rosamond. 

'Do  not  ask  it,  my  dear,'  said  Godfrey; 
c  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  doing  it,  without 
your  asking  it;  1  will  do  it  to-morrow  morn- 
ing.' 

'  Then  I  perceive  you  guess  what  it  is,' 
said  Rosamond,  smiling.  The  next  morning, 
at  the  appointed  hour,  when  Rosamond  was 
going  to  Mrs.  Egerton's,  Godfrey  begged  to 
accompany  her. 

'  Thank  you  ;  the  very  thing  I  wished/ 
said  Rosamond ;  '  I  ask  you  only  to  see,  hear, 
and  judge  for  yourself.' 

Just  as  they  were  setting  out  however,  they 
were  stopped  by  a  servant,  who  put  a  note 
into  Rosamond's  hand  from  Mrs.  Egerton. 
This  note  requested  that  Rosamond  would 
not  come  to  her  this  day,  as  some  unhappy 
circumstances  had  happened  which  must  pre- 
vent her  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her 
friend. 

What  these  unhappy  circumstances  were, 
Rosamond  did  not  hear  till  long  afterwards. 
They  related  to  the  affairs  of  the  Folliott 
Browns,  which,  by  the  extravagance  of  that 


ROSAMOND.  121 

family,  began  at  this  time  to  be  much  derang- 
ed. The  young  people,  who  had  been  so 
thoughtlessly  talking  the  preceding  night, 
little  knew  that  they  would  soon  need  the 
assistance  of  the  excellent  persons,  whom  they 
were  endeavoring  to  turn  into  ridicule.  In 
the  absolute  ruin  of  Mr.  Folliott  Brown's  for- 
tune, which  some  months  afterwards  ensued, 
when  they  were  obliged  to  sell  their  house  in 
town,  their  carriages,  and  all  that  could  be 
sold  of  their  property  ;  when  all  their  fine 
friends  only  said,  The  poor  Folliott  Browns, 
I  hear,  are  quite  ruined  !  quite  gone  !  Mrs. 
Egerton  and  her  brother  received  them  kind- 
ly, and  assisted  them  generously. 

As  Godfrey  observed,  they  had  reason  to 
be  glad  that  Rosamond  was  both  a  judicious 
and  a  silent  friend. 


VOL.  II.      11 


122  EARLY    LESSONS. 


EGERTON  ABBEY. 

A  YEAR  and  some  months  had  passed 
since  Rosamond's  nine  days'  trial, 
which  was  now  counted  among  childish 
occurrences,  or,  if  referred  to,  prefaced  with, 
Do  you  remember  the  time,  of  that  foolish 
trial  ]  or,  Do  you  recollect,  Godfrey,  that 
time,  before  the  time  of  the  nine  days'  won- 
der, when  you  did  not  like  the  Egertons ;  I 
mean  when  you  did  not  know  the  Egertons?7 

That  time  had  long  been  in  the  preterplu- 
perfect  tense  with  Godfrey.  It  was  so  com- 
pletely past,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he 
could  remember  it ;  and  it  was  not  only  with 
difficulty,  but  with  some  sense  of  shame,  or 
self-reproach,  that  he  called  it  to  mind.  Ro- 
samond, observing  this,  had  kindly  consigned 
the  subject,  to  oblivion. 

Godfrey  had  never  been  at  Egerton  Abbey, 
which  belenged  to  Dr.  Egerton,  brother-in- 
law  to  Rosamond's  excellent  old  friend.  Ro- 
samond, who  had  often  been  there  with  her 
mother,  during  the  time  that  her  brother  had 
been  at  school,  was  delighted  with  the  pros- 
pect of  his  accompanying  them  on  a  visit, 
which  they  were  now  going  to  pay  there. 
She  was  eager  to  introduce  him  to  a  place  she 
particularly  loved,  and  to  see  him  enjoy  the 
company  of  those  whom  she  was  proud  of 


ROSAMOND.  123 

having  made  his  friends.  Godfrey,  perceiv- 
ing this,  gave  her  the  greatest  pleasure,  by 
being  as  gay  as  possible  on  their  happy  jour- 
ney to  the  Abbey. 

It  was  a  delightful  day  in  Autumn.  They 
travelled  in  an  open  carriage,  and  through  a 
beautiful  country.  If  the  carriage  had  stop- 
ped as  often  as  Rosamond  wished  that  it 
should,  for  Laura  to  sketch  every  charming 
picturesque  view  !  her  drawing-book  would 
have  been  filled  in  the  course  of  this  day,  and 
they  would  not  have  arrived  at  the  end  of 
their  journey  before  midnight.  But  fortu- 
nately, Laura's  wish  to  reach  Egerton  Abbey 
before  it  grew  dark  was  gratified,  as  the  red 
setting  sun  was  still  shining  on  the  top  of  the 
great  oak  wood,  and  gleaming  on  the  win- 
dows in  the  western  front  of  the  Abbey,  as 
they  drove  up  the  avenue. 

Godfrey  was  quite  as  much  pleased  with 
the  first  view  as  Rosamond  had  expected, 
and  his  delight  was  increased,  even  beyond 
her  hopes,  when  he  entered  the  Gothic  hall, 
and  followed  her  as  she  hurried  him  along 
the  matted  cloisters,  dimly  lighted  through 
painted  glass,  to  the  happy  library,  opening 
to  a  conservatory,  rich,  as  Rosamond  had 
described  it,  in  bloom  and  perfume,  and  on 
which  the  sun  always  shone.  The  library, 
with  books  and  prints  scattered  on  various 
tables,  gave  evidence  that  people  had  been 
happily  employed.  No  one  was  in  the  room 
when  they  first  entered  ;  the  family  were  out 


124 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


on  the  terrace,  watching  for  the  arrival  of 
their  friends.  A  pleasing  young  girl  soon 
came  running  in  eagerly  to  welcome  Rosa- 
mond ;  this  was  Helen,  Mrs.  Egerton's  grand- 
daughter. While  Mrs.  Egerton,  who  could 
not  walk  fast,  was  returning  from  the  farthest 
end  of  the  terrace,  Helen  had  time  to  tell  them 
the  names  of  all  the  people  who  were  at  the 
Abbey.  Rosamond  enjoyed  Godfrey's  look 
of  surprise  and  satisfaction,  when  he  heard 
that  among  the  guests  were  two  persons 
whom  he  had  wished  particularly  to  see,  or 
rather  to  hear ;  one  was  a  celebrated  traveller, 
the  other  a  distinguished  orator  and  patriot. 
The  first  evening   at    Egerton  Abbey  was 


ROSAMOND.  125 

spent  so  happily,  that,  when  it  was  time  to 
go  to  rest,  Godfrey  lingered  so  long  in  his 
mother's  apartment,  talking  over  with  Rosa- 
mond the  pleasures  they  had  enjoyed  since 
their  arrival,  and  the  still  greater  pleasures 
they  anticipated  for  the  morrow,  that  his 
father  was  at  last  obliged  to  take  him  by  the 
shoulders,  put  him  out  of  the  room,  and  lodge 
him  in  the  turret  assigned  him  Even  then, 
unless  his  father  had  prudently  bolted  his 
own  door,  Godfrey  would  have  returned,  yea, 
even  at  midnight,  to  have  made  him  come  to 
look  at  something  he  had  discovered  in  his 
turret.  It  was  Rosamond's  pendule  case, 
with  the  flying  minutes  and  dancing  hours, 
which  he  saw  placed  on  his  chimney-piece. 

From  the  turret,  in  which  Godfrey  slept,  a 
back  staircase  led  down  to  Dr.  Egerton's 
study,  and  one  from  Rosamond's  turret  led  to 
Mrs.  Egerton's  dressing-room.  They  had 
each  leave  to  go  to  their  friends,  and  of  this 
happy  privilege  they  availed  themselves  as 
soon  as  possible.  The  first  morning,  before 
breakfast,  they  were  made  acquainted  with 
the  characters,  and  with  all  that  could  be  en- 
tertaining or  instructive  in  the  histories  of  the 
various  guests  then  at  Egerton  Abbey.  These 
judicious  friends  were  anxious  to  introduce 
them,  early  in  life,  to  persons  distinguished 
for  their  knowledge,  talents,  or  virtues ;  to  all 
who  could  best,  by  precept  and  example,  ex- 
cite generous  emulation,  and  direct  useful 
energy. 


126  EARLY   LESSONS. 

It  is  certain  that  much  of  what  was  said 
and  done,  during  this  visit,  made  an  indelible 
impression  both  on  Godfrey  and  Rosamond  ; 
but  it  will  not  be  possible  for  their  historian 
to  do  more  than  touch  upon  the  principal 
points. 

The  first  day,  at  dinner,  the  conversation 
turned  upon  Athens  and  the  Elgin  marbles, 
and  then  diverged  to  Greece,  and  Turkey, 
and  Ali  Pacha.  Godfrey  and  Rosamond  had 
read  and  remembered  enough  of  the  Travels 
of  Holland  and  Clarke,  to  excite  their  interest 
in  all  that  was  said,  and  to  enable  them  to 
follow  the  conversation  with  the  double  satis- 
faction arising  from  the  consciousness  of 
knowing  a  little,  and  the  sense  of  learning 
more.  Though  neither  of  them  joined  in  the 
conversation,  their  interest  and  attention  were 
constantly  kept  up ;  when  this  agreeable  trav- 
eller said  he  had  seen  the  yanar,  or  perpetual 
fire,  of  which  they  had  read  an  account  in 
Karamania ;  that  he  had  walked  on  the  banks 
of  the  Seaman der,  and  climbed  into  the  pyra- 
mids ;  when  he  asserted  that  he  had  remained 
long  enough  at  Tripoli  to  confirm  the  truth  of 
the  picture  of  that  country,  so  well  given  in 
the  narrative  of  Mr.  Tully's  residence  there — 
great  was  their  pleasure  in  listening ;  and 
they  almost  felt  as  if  they  had  themselves 
travelled  over  these  regions. 

The  conversation  afterwards  turned  upon 
the  female  character  and  manners,  and  their 
influence  on  the  fate  and  happiness  of  nations, 


ROSAMOND.  127 

in  the  Oriental  and  European  world;  and 
many  curious  facts  were  mentioned,  and 
many  allusions  made,  both  to  history  and  to 
works  of  fiction,  which  kept  up  the  lively 
attention  of  the  young  audience. 

It  was  particularly  agreeable  to  Rosamond, 
who  was  the  youngest  of  the  party,  to  feel 
that  she  could  take  a  real  interest  in  such 
conversation,  and  that  the  books  which  she 
had  read,  or  that  she  had  heard  read  at  home, 
now  came  into  use.  Well  educated,  well 
informed  young  people,  will  here  recollect 
and  recognise  their  own  feelings  of  delight  in 
similar  circumstances.  As  Dr.  Egerton  point- 
ed out,  her  pleasure  arose,  not  only  from  the 
taste  she  had  acquired  for  knowledge  and 
literature,  but  from  the  feelings  of  sympathy 
and  domestic  affection,  which  made  every 
subject,  that  was  interesting  to  her  father  and 
brothers,  doubly  interesting  to  herself. 

The  day  after  the  conversation  about  the 
Elgin  marbles,  Tweddell's  Life  having  been 
referred  to  by  some  of  the  company,  his  me- 
moirs were  left  open  on  the  library  table,  as 
it  chanced,  at  a  part  which  caught  Rosa- 
mond's attention.  It  was  the  letter  which 
gives  an  account  of  the  country-seat  and 
princely  establishment  of  a  certain  Polish 
Countess.  It  was  not  the  charming  country- 
seat,  or  the  princely  establishment,  that  ex- 
cited Rosamond's  admiration,  but  the  gener- 
osity of  this  noble  lady  to  a  family  of  French 
emigrants,  who  had,  in  their  prosperity,  shown 


128  EARLY   LESSONS. 

her  kindness  at  Paris,  and  whom,  in  their  ad- 
versity, she  received  with  splendid  hospitali- 
ty and  magnificent  gratitude.  Rosamond, 
delighted  with  this  account,  carried  it  direct- 
ly to  Mrs.  Egerton,  and,  resting  the  quarto  on 
the  elbow  of  her  arm  chair,  read  the  whole 
passage.  When  she  had  finished  reading,  she 
exclaimed,  '  How  I  wish  I  had  been  that  Po- 
lish Countess  !  I  wish  I  had  such  an  immense 
fortune,  and  such  vast  power;  because,  with- 
out great  riches,  or  great  power,  whatever 
one  may  feel,  it  is  impossible  to  show  such 
generosity,  such  gratitude  ! ' 

'  I  allow,  my  dear,'  replied  Mrs.  Egerton, 
'  without  such  a  fortune  and  power,  it  is  im- 
possible to  show  what  you  call  magnificent 
gratitude ;  but  consider  that  such  is  rarely 
called  for  in  the  common  course  of  life,  while 
in  every  condition,  in  yours,  in  mine,  in  every 
class,  in  those  far  below  us  in  fortune  and 
power,  even  in  the  very  poorest,  generosity  or 
gratitude,  equal  to  that  of  your  noble  countess, 
may  be  shown,  if  not  as  magnificently  or  as 
usefully,  at  least  as  essentially  to  the  happi- 
ness of  those  for  whom  it  is  exercised.' 

'  Perhaps  so,'  said  Rosamond ;  '  but  still 
one  cannot  do  so  much  good — such  grand 
things.' 

'  Not  such  grand  things,  certainly,  but  as 
much  good,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton,  '  on  a  small 
scale.  If  each  person  in  their  own  little  way 
does  something,  and  if  all  do  the  best  they 
can,  the  numbers   will  in  time  work  out  as 


ROSAMOND.  129 

much  good  for  their  fellow-creatures,  more 
perhaps  than  any  individual  can  perform  by 
the  greatest  exertions.  The  effect  will  not, 
I  grant,  be  so  immediately  striking  to  the 
young  imagination,  or  so  flattering  to  feelings 
of  vanity.' 

'  To  the  young  imagination  !  that  means  to 
me,'  said  Rosamond,  smiling.  '  But  now,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Egerton,  even  with  your  sober 
judgment,  you  would  not — would  you  ?  you 
could  not — could  you  ?  love  and  value  that 
small-scale  gratitude  so  much  as  the  magnifi- 
cent generosity  we  were  talking  of?' 

'  I  think  I  value  it  more,  and  love  it  more,' 
said  Mrs.  Egerton.  '  I  value  it  more,  because 
it  is  useful ;  I  love  it  more,  because  it  affects 
the  happiness  of  the  human  creatures  for 
whom  I  am  immediately  interested;  and  I 
both  love  and  value  what  you  call  small-scale 
generosity  and  gratitude,  because  it  is  gener- 
ally the  effect  of  more  real  feeling,  and  it  re- 
quires, in  its  exercise  and  in  its  continuance, 
more  self-denial  and  self-control.' 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by 
a  summons  to  Rosamond  to  join  her  mother, 
and  Laura,  and  Godfrey,  and  the  rest  of  the 
company,  who  were  ready  to  go  and  take  a 
long  walk  to  the  oak  wood.  Mrs.  Egerton 
was  not  able  to  accompany  the  young  party 
on  these  long  walks;  but,  while  they  rambled 
to  their  heart's  content  through  every  alley, 
green  dingle,  and  bushy  dell,  and  while  they 
still  more  to  their  heart's  content  took  always 


130 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


the  most  difficult  path,  and  that  which  prom- 
ised the  greatest  number  of  stiles  to  scramble 
over,  she  was  satisfied  to  drive  on  the  beaten 
road,  in  her  low  garden  chair,  to  meet  the 
party  at  some  favorite  spot,  where  she  joined 
with  her  young  friends  in  as  much  of  their 
walk  as  her  advanced  years  and  declining 
strength  permitted  her  to  attempt.  This 
morning  she  told  Helen  she  would  meet  them 
at  a  certain  gate  leading  from  the  high  road 
into  the  forest,  opposite  to  the  great  scathed 
oak.  She  met  them  there ;  and,  while  Laura, 
after  sketching  the  great  oak,  was  busy  draw- 
ing a  group  of  peasants  with  their  children, 


ROSAMOND.  131 

who  were  pulling  acorns  from  the  boughs, 
Mrs.  Egerton  took  Rosamond  with  her  clown 
a  path  which  led  to  the  thickest  part  of  the 
glen. 

i  Let  me  lean  on  you,  my  love,  and  you 
will  take  care  of  me  down  this  steep  path,' 
said  she.*  '  And  now,  without  going  so  far  as 
to  the  Ukraine,  and  without  the  power  or  for- 
tune of  the  Polish  Countess,  I  think  I  can 
show  you  an  example  of  what  we  may  class 
among  the  small-scale  instances  of  gratitude.' 

1  What  a  delightful  path  !  What  a  roman- 
tic scene  !  What  a  picturesque  situation  for  a 
cottage  ! '  cried  Rosamond,  ■  I  think  I  shall 
finish  by  wishing  to  live  in  that  little  cottage.' 

'  Stay  till  you  see  the  inside  of  it,  my  dear, 
and  believe  me,  you  will  not  wish  to  call  that 
little  hut  your  home  ;  and  though  it  is  sum- 
mer now,  and  this  glen  looks  cheerful  in  the 
sunshine,  do  not  forget  that  winter  will  come. 
You  will  find  in  the  inside  of  that  hut  nothing 
but  poverty,  plain,  sordid  poverty,  without 
any  thing  for  picturesque  effect.  I  found  out 
these  poor  people  the  other  day  by  chance, 
when  I  went  to  a  straw  chair-maker  in  the 
village,  to  bespeak  for  the  grotto  what  you 
call  my  beehive  chair.  While  I  was  there,  a 
poor  girl  came  in  with  some  bosses,  for  which 
she  waited  to  be  paid.  The  moment  the 
money  was  put  into  her  hand  she  asked  for 
fresh  work,  received  it  with  thankfulness  and 
run  off.  The  chair-maker  then  told  me  that 
she  was  one  of  the  most  hardworking  and 


132 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


best  girls  he  ever  knew,  and  the  most  grate- 
ful creature;  that,  besides  her  day's  business 
as  servant  girl  to  a  hard  mistress,  in  the  spare 
time  she  secured,  by  sitting  up  late  and  get- 
ting up  early,  she  made  enough  by  her  work 
to  pay  her  mistress  for  the  lodging  and  food 
of  a  poor  bedridden  paralytic  woman,  who 
had  formerly  nursed  her  when  in  distress;  or, 
as  the  man  expressed  it,  had  brought  her 
through  the  small-pox  when  every  one  else 
fled  from  her. 

As  Mrs.  Egerton  finished  this  account  they 
reached  the  cottage,  from  whence  the  first 
sound  they  heard   was  the  shrill  voi?e  of  a 


ROSAMOND.  133 

woman,  scolding.  This  woman,  just  return- 
ed from  market,  with  her  cloak  thrown  back, 
her  flat  black  silk  hat  on  her  head,  high,  stiff- 
peaked  stays,  white  cuffs,  and  black  mittens, 
was  standing,  with  arms  a-kimbo,  in  all  the 
authority  of  her  market-day  attire,  scolding  a 
slight  formed,  thin  girl,  seemingly  about 
thirteen  or  fourteen,  who  was  standing  before 
her  hi  a  submissive  posture,  her  whole  figure 
and  face  quite  motionless.  The  moment  the 
girl  saw  Mrs.  Egerton  appear  at  the  door  be- 
hind her  mistress,  with  a  start  of  joy  she  clasp- 
ed her  hands. and  came  forward  several  steps, 
so  that  Rosamond  then  saw  her  face  more 
distinctly.  It  was  not  handsome ;  it  was 
marked,  nay,  seamed  by  the  small-pox,  ema- 
ciated and  deadly  pale,  except  while  a  hectic 
flush  crossed  it  at  the  instant  she  first  came 
forward.  Her  mistress,  turning  abruptly  as 
they  entered,  began,  in  a  softened  tone,  with 
1  Sarvant,  Madam  Egerton.'  But,  as  soon  as 
she  saw  Mrs.  Egerton  look  kindly  towards 
the  girl,  her  countenance  again  clouded  over; 
and  when  she  went  to  feel  Mary's  pulse,  and 
asked  her  how  she  did,  the  mistress,  in  a  low 
murmur,  speaking  to  herself,  as  she  swung 
aside  the  chair  she  had  set  for  Mrs.  Egerton, 
said,  '  She  is  well  enough,  if  Quality  would 
not  be  coining  to  put  notions  into  her  head  ; 
strong  enough  too  of  all  conscience  for  all  my 
work,  and  her  own  too  when  she  pleases,  as 
she  used  fast  enough  afore  she  was  half  her 
height,  until  of  late  days,  since  ever  that  va- 


134  EARLY   LESSONS. 

gary  of  pretending  to  be  weak,  like  a  lady, 
was  pat  into  her  silly  brain.' 

Gaining  courage  from  her  rekindling  anger, 
and  observing  that  the  ladies  heard  her,  and 
that  their  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  the  wo- 
man let  loose  her  temper,  and  poured  forth,  in 
her  natural  shrill  objurgatory  voice,  a  torrent 
of  reproaches  against  this  Mary,  this  object  of 
her  hourly  wrath.  While  the  storm  raged, 
Mary  stood  as  before  quite  still,  without  ever 
raising  her  eyes,  resolutely  patient.  But  Ro- 
samond observed  that  one  spot  of  color,  which 
appeared  high  upon  each  thin  cheek  bone, 
gradually  became  of  a  deep  fixed  red. 

1  O,  ma'am  !'  cried  Rosamond,  '  pray  don't 
scold  her  any  more  ! ' 

Loud  squalls  of  children  interrupted  Rosa- 
mond. The  girl  quickly  turning  to  open  the 
back  door,  a  tribe  of  crying  children  rushed  in, 
stretching  out  their  dirty  hands,  and  scream- 
ing, Mary  !  Mary  !  Suddenly  silenced  by  the 
sight  of  the  strangers,  they  clung  round  Mary, 
who  wiped  their  eyes  and  set  their  rags  to 
rights.  But  fresh  subjects  of  abuse  now  oc- 
curred to  the  mistress,  who  railed  anew  a- 
gainst  Mary  for  standing  there,  as  she  did 
always,  while  her  children  were  breaking 
their  necks.  '  No  care  from  her  of  any  thing 
within  or  without;  so  you  see  how  it  is  with 
your  own  eyes  at  last,  Madam  Egerton  !  And 
I  am  glad  on  it.' 

1  And  I  am  glad  of  it  too,'    said  Mrs.  Eger- 


ROSAMOND.  135 

ton.  '  Bat  pray  how  is  the  poor  paralytic 
woman  to-day  V 

1  What,  old  Sarah !  Why,  madam,  the 
same  as  usual,  I  do  suppose.  No  great 
chance,  I  guess,  of  her  being  better  or  worse. 
And  I  have  reason,  I'm  sure,  to  rue  the  day 
she  ever  darkened  my  doors,  and  did  not  go 
on  the  parish  as  she  ought ;  for,  since  the  day 
Mary  took  to  tending  her,  and  that's  four 
years  come  Michaelmas,  I  have  had  no  ser- 
vice out  of  her,  to  say  proper  service ;  and  she, 
my  'prentice,  regular  bound,  as  I  can  show 
you,  madam,'  added  she,  going  to  an  old  dark 
press  in  the  wall  to  rummage  for  papers. 

'  I  do  not  doubt  it,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton,  *'and 
we  will  look  to  that  by  and  by :  but  first,  can 
we  see  old  Sarah?' 

i  Yes,  sure,  madam  ! '  cried  Mary,  a  ray  of 
joy  darting  from  her  eyes,  '  if  you  could  but 
cross  the  yard;'  and,  disengaging  herself  at 
one  motion  from  all  the  children,  she  threw 
open  the  hatch  door  and  disappeared. 

Rosamond  and  Mrs.  Egerton  followed 
through  the  litter  and  dirt  to  what  was  call- 
ed the  old  cow  house,  a  low  hovel,  of  which 
the  roof  was  strangely  propped,  and  the 
thatch,  black  and  overgrown  with  grass,  was 
in  places  curiously  patched  with  new  straw. 
One  of  the  children  was  watching  for  them  at 
the  hovel  door ;  there  was  so  little  light  with- 
in that,  at  first  entering,  Rosamond  could 
scarcely  see  any  thing,  nor  discern  the  figure 


136  EARLY   LESSONS. 

of  Mary  standing  by  some  sort  of  bed  on  the 
ground,  in  one  corner  of  the  place. 

'  Be  kind  enough  to  come  closer,  madam, 
miss,'  said  Mary,  '  she  won't  be  startled  ;  I 
come  first  to  warn  her.' 

She,  as  Rosamond  saw,  when  she  came 
closer  to  the  bed,  was  the  paralytic  woman, 
who  was  sitting  propped  up  with  a  bundle  of 
straw  against  the  wall  behind  her ;  the  re- 
mains of  a  patch-work  quilt  covering  her 
lower  limbs,  of  which  she  had  entirely  lost 
the  use. 

'  But  see,  madam,  she  can  move  her  hands 
and  arms  now  as  well  as  ever,  thanks  be  to 
God ! ' 

'  Thanks  be  to  God  !  and  you,  dear  Mary  ! ' 
said  the  palsied  woman,  joining  her  hands  in 
prayer.  '  Madam  Egerton,  there's  no  tongue 
on  earth  can  tell  what  that  girl  does,  and  has 
done  these  four  long  years  for  me,  little  worth 
that  I  am  ! ' 

'  Little  I  can  do,'  said  Mary,  wiping  her 
eyes  and  forehead  with  one  quick  motion ; 
'  and  too  happy  I  should  be  could  I  be  allow- 
ed to  do  that  little.' 

'  O,  Madam  Egerton  ! '  continued  the  sick 
woman,  '  if  I  had  words  !  if  you  could  but 
know  all  ! ' 

'  If  you  did  know  all,  madam,'  said  the 
girl,  '  then  you'd  know  how  grateful  I  ought 
for  to  be  to  her  who  is  lying  there ;  and  so  I 
would  be  if  I  could,  but  I  cannot ! ' 

Throwing  the  apron  over  her  face,  Mary 


ROSAMOND.  137 

run  out  into  the  yard,  and  Sarah  was  silent 
for  some  moments,  hearing  her  sobbing. 

1  The  most  gratefullest  girl ! '  said  the  palsi- 
ed woman ;  '  the  most  hardworkingest,  grate- 
ful soul  of  a  poor  body  God  ever  made  !  O, 
the  happy  day  for  me,  when  I  once  nursed 
her  in  sickness!  That  was  all,  madam,  I  ever 
did  for  her ;  and  see  what  she  has  been  to  me 
ever  since  !  me,  a  cripple,  such  as  you  see, 
and  she  scarce  more  than  a  child,  aud  slight 
of  body  as  that  young  lady  there !  and  as 
tender  of  heart,'  added  she,  seeing  Rosamond's 
tears. 

Mrs.  Egerton  then  went  away,  notwith- 
standing Rosamond's  earnest  wishes  to  see 
and  hear  more ;  and  though  she  begged  most 
anxiously  to  be  permitted  to  do  something, 
and  expressed  the  most  eager  desire  to  do  a 
great  deal  as  soon  as  possible,  Mrs.  Egerton 
gently,  but  steadily  resisted.  '  No,  my  love, 
no,  leave  it  to  me ;  I  hope  I  shall  do  all  that 
can,  that  ought  to  be  done  for  both.  But  we 
must  not  take  from  this  grateful  girl  the  merit 
and  the  pleasure  which,  be  assured,  she  has, 
in  the  depth  of  poverty  and  in  the  midst  of 
her  hard  struggles,  in  bearing  and  forbearing, 
in  feeling  that  she  is  all  in  all  to  that  poor 
cripple,  and  that  her  grateful  heart  gives  what 
neither  our  money,  nor  any  money  can  pur- 
chase.' 

\  True,  indeed  ;  I  do  believe  it ;  I  am  con- 
vinced of  it,'  said  Rosamond  reluctantly ;  and, 

VOL.  II.      12 


138  EARLY   LESSONS. 

as  she  returned  with  Mrs.  Egerton,  walking 
slowly  up  the  steep  path,  she  reflected  in  si- 
lence, till  Mrs.  Egerton  pausing  to  rest,  Rosa- 
mond repeated,  '  I  am  convinced  you  are 
right,  ma'am.  That  poor  girl  had  literally 
nothing  of  her  own  to  give  ;  yet  her  gratitude 
was  most  touching,  and  more  truly  generous 
than  that  of  my  magnificent  countess,  and  far 
more  meritorious,  because,  as  you  say,  here  is 
such  constant  self-denial,  such  wonderful  pow- 
er over  herself ! '  continued  Rosamond.  '  O, 
think  of  what  it  must  be  to  bear  that  scolding 
woman,  added  to  all  her  own  misery,  day  and 
night  for  four  years  !  half  starved,  and  sick, 
and  working  so  hard  ! ' 

That  which  words  could  not  fully  express, 
Rosamond  finished  by  shedding  a  few  uncon- 
trollable tears,  and  by  several  deep  sighs, 
which  relieved  her,  as  they  walked  slowly 
up  the  glen  to  rejoin  the  party,  whom  they 
had  left  in  the  forest. 

Laura  had  not  only  finished  sketching  the 
group  of  children  gathering  acorns  and  the 
scathed  oak,  but  she  had  taken  a  view  of  a 
beautiful  glade  in  the  forest  before  Rosamond's 
return.  Godfrey,  the  moment  he  saw  her, 
run  to  meet  her,  calling  to  beg  she  would 
help  them  to  recollect  the  description  of  the 
scathed  oak  in  Mundy's  Need  wood  Forest. 
This  turned  Rosamond's  attention  from  the 
miseries  she  had  just  witnessed,  and,  after  a 
little  recollection,  she  repeated  the  whole 
passage.    Mrs.  Egerton  said  she  often  thought 


ROSAMOND.  139 

of  those  lines  when  she  looked  at  that  favorite 
old  tree ;  but  that  she  loved  better  still  the 
verses  to  his  Arm  Chair,  and  those  to  his  little 
grandson  of  seven  years  old,  and  asked  God- 
frey to  repeat  them  for  her. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  walk  home, 
the  conversation  took  a  different  turn.  A 
country  gentleman,  who  was  one  of  the  party, 
was  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Mundy,  having 
been  once  his  schoolfellow,  and  always  his 
friend.  He  was  pleased  to  find  that  his 
verses  had  been  selected  and  liked  by  these 
young  people.  Though  Mr.  Mundy  had  been 
dead  some  time,  his  memory  was  still  fresh 
in  the  minds  of  all  who  had  known  him. 
'  By  some,'  said  bis  friend,  '  perhaps  he  was 
liked  only  for  his  convivial  qualities,  or  as  a 
good  companion  in  the  fox  chase ;  but  he  was 
better  appreciated  by  others,  who  admired  his 
cultivated  taste,  agreeable  conversation,  and 
polite  maimers.  By  all  he  was  loved  for  his 
amiable  temper  and  his  benevolent  habits ; 
and  in  every  rank  his  loss  was  felt  as  a  kind 
neighbor,  a  good  landlord,  an  excellent  mag- 
istrate, and  a  useful  country  gentleman.'  To 
this  eulogium  Godfrey  and  Rosamond  listened 
with  an  interest,  excited  by  their  previous  ac- 
quaintance with  his  poetry.  Rosamond  was 
much  gratified  by  perceiving  that  rational 
conversation  was  addressed  to  her ;  that  she 
was  herself  considered,  neither  as  an  ignorant 
child,  nor  yet  as  a  mere  young  lady,  thinking 
only  of  dress  and  nonsense. 


140  EARLY    LESSONS. 

It  was  observed  that  she  and  her  brother 
always  attended  to  good  conversation,  instead 
of  carrying  on,  as  many  young  persons  do,  all 
the  time  any  rational  subject  is  discussed, 
some  tittering,  trifling,  ill-bred  whispering, 
apart  among  themselves,  or  else  sitting  or 
standing  in  all  the  constraint  of  uninterested, 
stupified  silence. 

To  tell  things  just  as  they  were,  however, 
it  should  be  here  confessed  that  Rosamond, 
proud  of  some  particular  notice  that  had  been 
taken  of  her  brother,  continued,  in  complais- 
ance to  Godfrey,  to  listen  a  little  longer  than 
she  really  wished  to  do  to  a  conversation, 
which  began  among  the  gentlemen,  on  the 
advantages  and  disadvantages  of  the  game 
laws.  She  made  several  attempts  to  draw 
Godfrey  off,  that  she  might  tell  him  what  she 
had  seen  of  the  grateful  girl,  and  of  the  para- 
lytic woman,  but  his  attention  was  too  much 
engaged.  At  length  Rosamond,  hearing  some 
words  of  a  more  entertaining  subject  from  an- 
other division  of  the  walkers,  withdrew  her 
arm  gently  from  her  brother's. 

1  So,  Rosamond  ! '  exclaimed  he,  '  you  don't 
like  to  hear  all  this  of  the  game  laws  V 

1  No,  thank  you,'  said  she ;  '  I  want  to  hear 
something  that  Laura  is  listening  to;  some 
account  of  a  fire  in  London;  will  you  come?' 

'  O,  no,'  said  Godfrey;  '  I  must  hear  what 
these  gentlemen  are  saying  about  the  game 
laws;  but  you  are  a  woman,  and  you  are 
quite  right  not  to  meddle   with  politics ;    go; 


ROSAMOND.  141 

go,  Rosamond,  you  are  quite  right/  added  he, 
with  a  little  nod  of  manly  superiority. 

On  nearer  approach,  Rosamond  found  that 
the  fire  in  London,  of  which  Laura  was  speak- 
ing, was  no  new  accident,  but  one  which  hap- 
pened one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  the 
old  fire  of  1666,  which  nearly  destroyed  the 
city  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second. 

'  But  how  came  you  to  talk  of  this,  my  dear 
Laura?'  said  Rosamond.  '  When  I  left  you, 
you  were  talking  of  Mr.  Mundy  and  country 
gentlemen.  How  did  you  get  to  the  fire  of 
London  ? ' 

'  Very  easily,'  said  Laura  l  From  country 
gentlemen  to  planting,  and  Evelyn's  Sylva ; 
then  to  his  diary,  which  brought  to  our  minds 
the  recollection  of  his  interesting  account  of 
that  dreadful  fire  in  London.' 

Rosamond  was  well  acquainted  with  this 
passage,  and  had  heard  so  many  others  read 
aloud  by  her  father,  and  had  learnt  so  much 
of  Evelyn  in  the  course  of  conversation,  that 
she  knew  his  history  and  his  character,  and 
felt  interested  about  Wottcn,  the  house  and 
place  he  so  often  mentions,  and  to  which  he 
was  so  much  attached.  So  that  it  was  with 
the  greatest  pleasure  that  she  heard  arrange- 
ments made  for  going  to  see  that  place  the 
next  day,  and  listened  with  eagerness  to  the 
detail  of  open  carriages,  side-saddles,  and 
ponies. 

The  moment  they  arrived  at  the  Abbey, 
Godfrey  and  Rosamond  hurried  to  Dr.  Eger- 


.42 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


Hill Iiiiii ill 


ton's  study,  and,  with  their  customary  pre- 
face of  I  hope  we  don't  disturb  you,  sir,  they 
began  to  tell  him  all  that  they  had  seen,  heard, 
felt,  and  understood,  since  they  had  left  him. 
As  soon  as  they  came  into  his  study,  Dr.  Eg- 
erton  put  away  his  papers,  dismissed  his  man 
of  business,  seated  himself  in  what  he  called 
his  idle  arm-chair,  and  listened  to  his  young 
friends  with  that  polite,  benevolent,  encourag- 
ing look,  which  assured  them,  even  more  than 
his  words  could  do,  that  they  were  never 
troublesome. 

Laura's  sketches  were  put  into  his  hands, 


ROSAMOND.  143 

but,  before  he  could  well  have  time  to  begin 
his  praises,  or  his  criticisms,  Godfrey  had  be- 
gun his  report  of  the  debate  on  the  game  laws. 
and  Rosamond  was  imploring  leave  to  tell  her 
history  of  the  walk  with  Mrs.  Egerton.  But 
Dr.  Egerton,  as  soon  as  he  heard  Rosamond 
mention  the  poor  girl  and  the  paralytic  wo- 
man, told  her  that  Mrs.  Egerton  had  just  been 
speaking  to  him  on  this  subject,  and  that  they 
had  been  contriving  together  some  means  of 
bettering  their  condition  ;  and  that  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton was  already  occupied  in  preparing  to  car- 
ry their  plan  into  execution. 

'  So  soon  !  O,  delightful ! '  said  Rosamond. 
1  You  and  Mrs.  Egerton  are  not  what  my 
father  calls  sayers,  but  doers.  You  know, 
Godfrey,  what  my  father  was  saying  the 
other  day,  that  there  are  two  sets  of  people  in 
the  world ;  one,  the  very  large  class  of  the 
sayers  ;  the  other,  the  very,  very  small  one  of 
the  doers? 

But  Godfrey  did  not  listen  to  Rosamond, 
for,  at  this  moment,  he  wanted  to  be  one  of 
the  sayers  ;  and  having  at  length  caught  Dr. 
Egerton's  eye,  he  went  on  with  the  speech  on 
the  game  laws,  which  Rosamond  had  inter- 
rupted ;  and,  to  do  him  justice,  he  summed  up 
the  argument  he  had  heard  from  his  able  and 
honorable  friends  very  fairly ;  and,  quoting 
the  orator's  words,  he  declared  that,  well  as 
he  loved  riding,  leaping,  and  hunting,  he 
hoped  he  should  never  be  one  of  those  who 
think  it  the  best  birthright  of  a  freeborn  Brit- 


144  EARLY   LESSONS. 

on,  and  the  first  privilege  of  a  gentleman,  to 
gallop  after  foxes,  hunt  hares,  or  shoot  small 
birds ;  in  short,  if  his  vote  were  to  decide  the 
matter,  it  should  be  for  the  total  abolition  of 
the  game  laws. 

Dr.  Egerton  smiled  at  the  young  orator's 
warmth;  and,  commending  his  humanity, 
seemed  nevertheless  to  doubt  whether  he 
might  continue  to  be  of  his  present  opinion 
some  years  hence,  when  he  should  become 
one  of  the  privileged  tribe  of  Nimrod  himself, 
and  when  he  would  probably  see  things  in 
quite  another  light,  and,  like  others,  leave  the 
hare  to  her  many  friends,  and  the  fox  to  his 
many  enemies.  No — Godfrey,  with  eager 
benevolence,  protested  against  this,  and  pledg- 
ed himself  to  support  his  present  opinion  when 
he  should  be  twenty,  forty,  fifty,  a  hundred 
years  old. 

'  Meantime,'  said  Dr.  Egerton,  '  take  my 
advice;  hear  much,  and  say  as  little  as  possi- 
ble upon  this,  or  any  other  question,  which 
requires  extensive  and  accurate  knowledge 
before  any  safe  judgment  can  be  formed  of 
the  bearings  of  the  different  points,  and  of  the 
consequences  of  abolishing  old,  or  making 
new  regulations.  But  pray,  my  young  poli- 
tician,' continued  Dr.  Egerton,  'understand 
that  I  do  not  wish  to  repress  your  spirit  of  in- 
quiry, or  your  wish  to  exercise  your  reasoning 
powers,  as  you  do,  upon  every  subject  that 
you  hear  discussed.  But,  till  you  are  sure  of 
your  ground,  tell  your  opinions  on  such  sub- 


ROSAMOND.  145 

jects  only  to  your  private  friends,  such  as  my- 
self for  instance,  or  your  father  or  mother.' 

Godfrey,  in  whom  the  spirit,  not  only  of  a 
young  politician,  but  of  a  parliamentary  de- 
bater, was  just  rising,  looked  much  disap- 
pointed by  this  speech  of  Dr.  Egerton,  and 
not  relishing  this  advice,  he  said,  he  confess- 
ed that  he  was  afraid  he  should  not  have  liked 
to  have  been  one  of  the  disciples  of  Pythago- 
ras, during  that  terrible  year  of  silence  that 
was  required  from  them. 

'  But  that  was  absolute  silence,'  Dr.  Egerton 
observed,  '  which  he  by  no  means  advised  to 
his  young  friend,  especially  as  he  should  be  a 
great  sufferer  by  it;  as  there  was  no  one  en- 
joyed more  than  he  did  their  free,  natural, 
first  thoughts ;  but  he  only  recommended  their 
refraining  from  giving  to  strangers  decisive 
opinions  on  subjects  where  they  had  not  means 
of  judging.' 

Godfrey  thanked  Dr.  Egerton  for  the  kind- 
ness of  this  advice,  but  could  not  refrain  from 
proceeding  to  farther  lengths  against  the  prin- 
ciple, policy,  and  wisdom  of  the  measure,  when 
Helen  burst  in  eagerly,  to  announce  the  joy- 
ful news,  that  all  was  settled  for  their  next 
day's  expedition  to  Wotton,  and  that  she  was 
to  go,  and  Rosamond  was  to  go,  and  Laura, 
and  Godfrey,  and  every  body,  provided  the: 
day  should  be  fine  enough  for  riding. 


VOL.  II.      13 


146  EARLY    LESSONS. 


THE  BLACK  LANE. 

AT  the  first  dawn  of  light,  Rosamond  was  at 
her  turret  window,  looking  out  to  see 
what  kind  of  day  it  would  be  ;  and,  putting 
her  head  far  out  to  the  east,  she  saw  the  case- 
ment window  of  the  eastern  turret  thrown 
open,  and  Godfrey's  head  popped  out  for  the 
same  purpose.  Head  nodded  to  head,  and 
withdrew,  both  satisfied,  from  the  promise  of 
the  sunrise,  that  it  would  be  as  fine  a  day  as 
heart  could  wish.  And  happily  for  those 
who  were  to  ride,  and  those  who  were  to  go 
in  open  carriages,  the  weather  was  quite  de- 
cided in  its  promise  and  in  its  performance. 
They  had  not  to  trust  to — 

The  uncertain  glories  of  an  April  day. 

It  was  October  ;  there  was  neither  too  much 
heat,  nor  too  much  cold,  nor  too  much  wind, 
nor  too  much  dust,  nor  too  much  nor  too  little 
of  any  thing,  of  which  the  most  fastidious 
felicity  hunters  could  complain. 

Felicity  hunters,  if  any  young  or  old  reader 
should  chance  to  be  unacquainted  with  the 
term,  is — as  the  traveller  told  Rosamond — the 
name  given,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  to  those  who 
go  there  and  make  parties  of  pleasure  to  see 
the  beauties  of  the  island.  Our  party  were 
not  teMcily -hunters,  but  felicity-defers,  for 


ROSAMOND.  1 47 

they  were  disposed  to  find  pleasure  in  every 
thing  they  saw,  and  that  is  a  great  step  to- 
wards success  in  finding  it,  as  Rosamond, 
from  her  own  experience  of  the  party  of  pain, 
and  the  party  of  pleasure,  in  the  days  of  her 
childhood,  well  remembered.  Rosamond  was 
set  to  go  in  the  carriage  when  they  set  out, 
and  to  ride  in  returning.  She  was  soon  hap- 
pily seated  in  the  landau,  wedged  in  between 
Laura  and  the  red-cushioued  elbow. 

To  all  who  have  ever  been  in  the  lovely 
valley  of  Dorking,  the  very  sound  of  its  name 
will  call  forth  instant  exclamations  of  delight ; 
and  such  continually  burst  from  our  young 
travellers  when  they  saw  this  happy  valley. 
The  riders  called  to  those  in  the  carriage,  and 
and  those  in  the  carriage  called  to  those  who 
were  riding. 

1  O,  look  there,  Rosamond !'  cried  Godfrey, 
pointing  to  the  right  with  his  whip. 

1  O,  look  here  !  Godfrey  !  Laura  !  mother ! 
father  ! '  cried  Rosamond,  as  the  views  passed 
too  quickly  before  her;  views  of  cultivated 
hills,  covered  with  a  vast  extent  of  wood  in 
rich  foliage,  and  autumnal  tints,  to  which  the 
bright,  low,  October  sun  gave  constant  varie- 
ty of  light  and  shade.  Every  landscape,  as 
it  passed,  Laura  longed  to  put  into  her  sketch 
book,  but  at  every  trial  she  failed  in  the  hope 
of  representing  what  she  saw,  and  at  last 
gave  herself  up,  as  Rosamond  advised,  to  the 
full  enjoyment  of  the  present. 

The  traveller  pointed  out,  as  they  passed 


148  EARLY    LESSONS. 

on,  all  the  places  famed  for  beauty,  which 
could  be  seen  from  that  road,  telling  them 
their  names,  and  those  of  their  present  and 
former  possessors ;  relating  anecdotes  of  past 
and  present  times,  which  gave  a  character  to 
almost  every  part  of  the  country  through 
which  they  passed.  As  they  came  within 
view  of  a  very  picturesque  demesne,  Godfrey 
and  his  father  rode  up  to  the  side  of  the  car- 
riage to  point  out  to  Laura  and  Rosamond  the 
beautiful  grounds  of  Chert  Park,  which  join 
the  Deep  Dene. 

'  Those  two  charming  places,'  said  their 
father,  '  are  now  united.  Chert  Park  has 
lately  been  purchased,  and  given  to  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  Deep  Dene  by  his  brother,  who 
declared  that  the  day,  on  which  he  saw  the 
boundaries  between  the  two  estates  levelled, 
was  the  happiest  of  his  life.' 

'  How  noble  !  How  kind  !  How  generous ! ' 
exclaimed  the  party  in  the  carriage. 

'  It  is  a  good  thing,  indeed,'  said  Godfrey's 
father,  turning  to  him,  '  to  have  such  a  broth- 
er ;  but  I  question  much  whether  the  being 
such  a  one  is  not  still  better.' 

'  The  affection  of  these  brothers  reminds 
me,'  said  the  traveller,  'of  the  attachment  to 
each  other  shown  by  two  young  Frenchmen, 
brothers  of  that  family  who  were  so  nobly  re- 
ceived by  the  Polish  Countess,  of  whom  you 
were  reading  yesterday,  Miss  Rosamond.' 

'  O  !  pray  tell  it  to  us,'  exclaimed  Rosa- 
mond. 


ROSAMOND.  149 

1  They  were  concerned  in  a  conspiracy 
against.  Bonaparte,'  continued  the  traveller, 
f  during  his  prosperity  in  France.  Their 
plans  were  discovered ;  they  were  seized  and 
imprisoned.  I  forget  by  what  means  they 
escaped  being  shot.  The  only  favor  they 
obtained  for  some  years,  during  a  most  rigor- 
ous confinement,  was  that  of  being  permitted 
to  be  together.  They  had  happy  tempers,  and 
contrived  to  keep  up  each  other's  spirits.  At 
last  the  severity  of  their  confinement  was  re- 
laxed in  some  degree,  and  they  were  removed 
on  their  parole  to  the  castle  of  Vincennes. 
They  both  possessed  many  accomplishments, 
and  spent  their  time  in  drawing,  music,  and 
in  many  innocent  amusements.  However, 
when  the  Allies  were  approaching  France,  it 
was  thought  dangerous  to  allow  them  so  much 
liberty.  They  one  day  received  a  visit  from 
an  officer,  of  whose  hostile  designs  they  could 
have  no  doubt,  though  he  appeared  to  have 
nothing  but  friendly  intentions  towards  them. 
He  invited  himself  to  dine  with  them,  and,  at 
last,  recommended  their  accompanying  him 
from  the  prison ;  they  of  course  made  no  re- 
sistance. Dinner  came ;  conversation  contin- 
ued, during  which  the  two  brothers  contrived 
to  make  themselves  understood  by  each  other, 
by  means  of  a  species  of  cypher  which  they 
had  amused  themselves  in  learning.  In  every 
sentence  they  addressed  to  the  officer  they  in- 
troduced particular  words,  which,  after  a  cer- 
tain time,  formed  a  sentence,  which  conveyed 


150  EARLY    LESSONS. 

their  intentions  to  each  other ;  in  this  manner 
they  concerted  between  them  their  plan.  Up- 
on some  pretext,  one  brother  went  down  stairs, 
and,  after  some  minutes,  the  other  went  to  his 
apartment  above  stairs,  saying  that  he  would 
prepare  himself  for  his  departure.  They  had 
purposely  lingered  over  their  dinner  till  it  was 
quite  dark.  'The  brother,  who  had  been  above 
stairs,  came  down,  rushed  into  the  room  where 
he  had  left  the  officer,  blew  out  the  candle, 
fastened  the  door  on  him,  ran  down  stairs  and 
joined  the  younger  brother,  who  was  waiting 
for  him  below.  They  had  often  marked  the 
place  in  the  wall,  where  they  could,  if  neces- 
sary, clear  it ;  dark  as  it  was,  they  knew  it, 
and  got  safe  to  the  outside  of  the  walls  of 
Paris.  If  they  escaped  from  thence,  they 
feared  being  immediately  traced,  they  there- 
fore got  to  the  other  extremity  of  Paris,  and 
there  concealed  themselves,  while  all  France 
was  searched  for  them  in  vain.' 

Just  as  the  traveller  had  finished  this  his- 
tory they  arrived  at  Wotton.  The  first  sight 
of  this  house,  built  in  the  fashion  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  time,  round  a  hollow  square,  with 
small  windows,  pointed  eye-brows,  and  many- 
peaked  roof,  disappointed  Rosamond  and  God- 
frey. It  was  old  enough,  but  not  venerable 
enough  to  strike  Rosamond's  fancy;  and  every 
room  they  entered  she  found  too  low,  too  small, 
and  too  dark ;  the  library  especially,  of  which 
they  had  formed  magnificent  expectations, 
disappointed  Godfrey  so  much,  that  twice  he 


ROSAMOND.  151 

repeated,  c  And  is  this  really  the  library  1  Is 
this  Evelyn's  library?' 

But  Evelyn's  portrait,  with  his  Sylva  in 
his  hand,  and  the  sight  and  smell  of  the  orig- 
inal manuscript  of  his  journal,  proved  quite 
satisfactory ;  and  the  old  port-folios,  with  all 
the  odd  prints  and  drawings,  which  Evelyn 
collected,  when  he  was  a  young  man,  on  the 
Continent,  and  sent  home  to  his  father  at 
Wotton,  delighted  Godfrey ;  and  not  only  him, 
but  his  friend  the  traveller,  who  had  seen 
most  of  what  is  best  worth  seeing  in  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe,  examined,  with  minute 
curiosity  and  interest,  every  tattered  remnant 
of  the  yellow  paper  notes  in  Evelyn's  hand- 
writing. 

'  Such  is  the  power  of  the  celebrated  name, 
known  all  over  Europe,'  said  the  traveller. 

'  Such,  my  dear  son,"  said  Godfrey's  father, 
1  is  the  interest  inspired  by  those,  who,  dur- 
ing their  lives,  distinguish  themselves  among 
their  fellow-creatures  by  knowledge,  talents, 
and  virtue ;  and  who,  after  their  death,  leave, 
in  their  works,  records  of  their  not  having 
lived  in  vain.' 

All  the  company  now  set  out  upon  their 
walk.  The  woods  of  Wotton  surpassed  the 
expectations  of  old  and  young.  As  to  the 
country  gentleman,  he  was  in  a  state  of  con- 
tinual enthusiasm ;  the  more  remarkable,  as, 
till  now,  he  had  shown  no  symptoms  of  warmth 
on  any  other  subject.  He  stopped  frequently 
to  exclaim,  at  the  sight  of  the  magnificent  ex- 


152  EARLY   LESSONS. 

tent  of  the  woods,  '  Ha  !  these  forest  trees  do 
honor  indeed  to  Evelyn's  Sylva,  or  Sylva's 
father  !  He  planted  Wotton.  What  one  man 
can  do  when  he  sets  about  it !  All  that  you 
see  planted  by  one  man !  As  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach,  and  farther  !  Well !  if  any  thing 
could  teach  men  to  be  wise,  and  plant  in  time, 
certainly  such  a  sight  as  this  would  do  it ! ' 

'  Do  it,9  said  the  orator  to  himself,  sis  but 
a  flat  ending.' 

Godfrey's  father  sighed,  and  observed  that 
all  he  now  saw,  and  all  he  now  heard,  made 
him  regret  that  he  had  not,  early  in  life,  plant- 
ed more.  '  My  son  will,  I  hope,  be  wiser 
than  I  have  been.' 

'  Orlando,  my  father  means,'  said  Godfrey 
to  Rosamond,  whose  eyes  immediately  turned 
upon  him.  '  But,  father,  by  the  by,'  contin- 
ued Godfrey,  '  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question  ; 
I  have  something  to  say.' 

'  By  the  by,  and  /  to  ant  to  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion, I  have  sometldng  to  say,  might  be  omit- 
ted,' whispered  the  orator  to  Laura.  '  Pardon 
me ;  but  your  brother,  I  see,  intends  to  be  an 
orator ;  and,  as  I  am  sure  he  will  always  have 
something  to  say,  he  will  do  well  to  avoid  any 
of  these  by-words  and  useless  prefaces.' 

Godfrey,  without  having  the  benefit  of  this 
counsel  at  the  moment,  went  on  with  his 
speech  to  his  father,  entirely  to  the  country 
gentleman's  satisfaction,  for  the  purport  of  it 
was  to  declare  his  intentions,  as  soon  as  he 
should  arrive  at  years  of  discretion,  to  plant 


ROSA.MOND.  153 

a  small  portion  of  land,  which  his  grandfather 
had  left  to  him,  and  of  which,  as  it  was  moun- 
tain and  moorland,  he  could  make  no  better 
use.  His  father  promised  to  assist  him  in 
carrying  his  laudable  resolution  into  effect, 
even  before  Godfrey  should  arrive  at  legal 
years  of  discretion.  From  this  moment  it 
was  observed  that  Godfrey,  and  with  him 
Rosamond,  who  sympathized  in  all  her  broth- 
er's concerns  and  projects,  listened  with  much 
increased  interest  to  all  that  was  said  upon 
the  subject  of  planting  and  fencing,  and  on 
the  growth,  cutting,  pruning,  and  profit  of 
trees.  She  and  Godfrey  often  assisted  the 
country  gentleman  in  measuring,  with  hat- 
band and  handkerchief,  the  girth  of  many 
prodigious  trees,  and,  in  return,  received  from 
him  much  useful  information  for  the  manage- 
ment of  the  future  woods  on  the  Moorland 
estate.  Laura,  meantime,  was  equally  happy 
in  making  some  rapid  sketches  of  the  pictur- 
esque groups  of  trees  present  to  her  eye.  and 
was  kindly  assisted  by  the  traveller,  who  was 
master  of  the  art  of  drawing,  and  who  knew, 
as  well  as  Kennion  himself,  how,  by  skilful 
touches,  to  give  to  each  different  tree  or  grove 
the  peculiar  character  of  their  respective 
growth  and  foliage.  In  one  lesson,  given  in 
this  manner,  by  a  person  who  began  by  in- 
sisting that  she  should  not  draw  a  line  with- 
out knowing  with  what  intent,  and  for  what 
purpose,  Laura  said  she  learned  more  of  the 
art  than  she  had  acquired  in  previous  months 


154  EARLY    LESSONS. 

and  years  from  common  masters.  She  was 
so  eager  at  her  work  that  she  could  hardly 
leave  it,  even  when  most  peremptorily  sum- 
moned by  Godfrey  and  Rosamond,  to  all  the 
joys  of  dining  in  a  tent !  a  marquee  !  with  its 
red  streamer  flying  ! 

There  is  an  age,  and  Laura,  Godfrey,  and 
Rosamond  were  of  that  age,  when  it  is  one 
of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  life  to  dine  in  a 
tent ;  and  the  more  inconvenient  the  place,  and 
the  fewer  the  customary  luxuries  of  life  the 
better,  because  the  greater  must  be  the  occa- 
sion for  making  every  thing  answer  some 
purpose  for  which  it  was  never  originally  in- 
tended, and  consequently  the  more  laughter, 
the  more  enjoyment,  the  more  delight.  On 
the  present  occasion  perhaps,  the  tent  and  the 
arrangement  were  rather  too  convenient  for 
Godfrey  and  Rosamond;  but  they  better  suit- 
ed the  more  mature  taste  of  their  father  and 
mother,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Egerton,  and  even  of 
the  traveller,  who  loved  his  ease,  he  owned, 
when  he  could  have  it;  and  of  the  country 
gentleman,  who  loved  always  to  have  every 
thing  comfortable,  even  at  a  fete  champetre. 

After  dinner,  while  the  company  were  walk- 
ing from  the  tent  to  the  avenue,  where  they 
were  to  meet  the  carriages,  Godfrey  and  Ro- 
samond went  to  the  gardens  to  see  the  foun- 
tain ;  and,  while  they  were  looking  at  it,  Hel- 
en came  running  to  them — ■ 

'  The  horses  are  all  ready  !  O,  I  have  run 
so  fast ! '  cried  she.     '  Rosamond,  I  am  glad 


ROSAMOND.  155 

I  am  in  time  to  ask  you  if  you  are  going  to 
ride  all  the  way  back ) ' 

'  Yes,  that  I  am/  said  Rosamond,  i  if  you 
please.' 

'  I  do  please ;  but,  my  dear  Rosamond,  I 
came  to  beg  you  will  take  care  when  you 
come  to  the  black  lane.' 

'  The  black  lane  ! ;  repeated  Rosamond, 
with  a  look  of  alarm. 

1  Yes,'  said  Helen;  '  the  pony,  though  the 
gentlest  creature,  and  the  quietest  at  all  other 
times,  is  always  restive  when  she  comes  to 
that  lane.' 

'  What  a  horrid  place  it  must  be  ! '  said 
Rosamond. 

c  But  why  ? '  said  Godfrey. 

'  Because,'  answered  Helen,  '  the  pony  once 
run  away  down  that  lane  with  our  servant 
Richard's  son,  and  threw  him.' 

1  A  child,  I  suppose,  that  did  not  know  how 
to  sit  a  horse,'  said  Godfrey. 

'-  But  is  that  the  reason  it  is  called  the  black 
lane  ?  Why  is  it  called  by  that  terrific  name  1 ' 
said  Rosamond,  on  whose  imagination  the 
name  made  more  impression  than  the  reality 
of  the  danger.  But,  to  her  question,  she  could 
obtain  no  satisfactory  answer.  Helen  did  not 
know,  or  did  not  hear  what  she  said,  for  God- 
frey was  proving  to  her  that  it  must  have 
been  the  boy's  fault  that  the  pony  threw  him. 
Then,  anxious  to  quiet  Rosamond's  apprehen- 
sions, who,  as  she  observed,  looked  excessively 


156  EARLY   LESSONS. 

alarmed,  Helen  began  to  soften  her  first  hasty 
representation. 

'  My  dear  Rosamond,'  said  she,  l  yon  need 
not  be  the  least  afraid  of  my  pony  ;  she  is  the 
gentlest  creature  in  the  world,  except  just 
when  she  comes  to  the  turn  to  the  black  lane.' 

1  O,  that  horrible  lane  !  Do  tell  me  all  about 
it?'  said  Rosamond. 

'  I  have  nothing  to  tell,  but  that  the  pony 
formerly  lived  there.' 

1  Lived  in  the  black  lane?'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Yes ;  she  was  bought  from  the  famer  who 
lives  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  she  always 
wants  to  turn  down  there,  because  she  has  an 
affection  for  the  place,  that's  all.' 

'That's  all,'  said  Godfrey;  'she  is  the 
quietest  creature  in  the  world;  I  could  ride 
her  with  a  rein  of  worsted ;  but  Helen  is  a 
little  bit  of  a  coward,  and  is  frightened  if  a 
horse  moves  its  ears.' 

'  Well,  I  know  I  am  a  coward,'  said  Helen; 
'  and  I  only  tell  you,  Rosamond,  there's  no 
danger,  I  know,  if  you  let  Richard  lead  her 
past  the  lane,  or  just  let  him  ride  between 
you  and  the  turn.' 

'  But  why  Richard  ?'  said  Godfrey  ;  '  I  can 
take  care  of  her  as  well  as  Richard.' 

'  0,  certainly ;  but  I  would  rather  have 
Richard  too,  when  we  come  to  the  dangerous 
place,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  To  the  black  lane  ! ?  said  Godfrey.  '  That 
name  has  run  away  with  Rosamond's  imag- 
ination.    See,  how  frightened  she  looks  ! ' 


ROSAMOND.  157 

1  Not  at  all,  brother,'  said  Rosamond,  l  only 
I  think—' 

'  I  think,'  interrupted  Godfrey,  '  to  settle 
the  matter  at  once,  if  you  are  a  coward  you 
had  better  not  ride  at  all,  my  dear.' 

While  Rosamond  stood  doubtful,  between 
the  fear  of  the  black  lane,  and  the  fear  that 
her  brother  should  think  her  a  coward,  they 
came  up  to  the  place  where  the  horses  were 
standing,  and  Richard,  the  servant  who  usu- 
ally rode  with  Helen,  called  Careful  Richard, 
led  the  pony  up  to  his  mistress.  In  reply  to 
Godfrey's  and  Rosamond's  instant  questions, 
concerning  the  habits  and  dispositions  of  the 
pony,  Richard  patted  her  fondly,  declaring 
there  was  not  a  quieter  creature  upon  earth ; 
she  never  ran  away  but  once,  and  that  was 
the  boy's  fault  who  was  riding  her. 

'  So  I  told  you,  Rosamond,'   cried  Godfrey. 

'  But  I  don't  care  whose  fault  it  was,'  said 
Rosamond.  '  Helen  says  the  pony  always 
wants  to  run  off  down  the  lane.' 

That  she  might  have  a  liking  to  turn 
down  the  lane  where  she  had  formerly  lived, 
Richard  would  not  take  upon  him  to  deny. 
'  But.  sir,'  added  he,  turning  to  Godfrey,  '  she 
never  attempts  such  a  thing,  or  thinks  of  it, 
except  when  Miss  Helen  is  riding  her,  who  is 
so  very  tvmorsome,  and  the  pony  knows  she 
can  do  as  she  pleases.' 

Godfrey  laughed  at  Helen's  cowardice  ; 
and  Rosamond's  fear  of  being  laughed  at 
conquered  her  fear  of  the  lane ;  so  patting  the 


158  EARLY   LESSONS. 

pretty  bright  bay  pony,  who  stood  as  quiel 
as  a  lamb,  she  declared  she  was  not  the  least 
afraid  now,  and  that  she  would  not  upon  any 
account  give  up  her  ride  with  Godfrey ;  so. 
Godfrey  praising  her  spirit,  she  sprang  upon 
the  pony,  proud  to  show  that  she  was  not 
timorsome.  Her  father,  who  had  not  heard 
what  had  passed,  joined  them  just  as  she  had 
mounted,  and  they  set  out  all  together.  Ro- 
samond, afraid  to  show  Godfrey  some  fears 
that  still  lurked  in  her  secret  soul,  did  not 
mention  it  to  her  father.  Once  she  was  going 
to  say  something  of  it,  but  Godfrey  praised 
her  way  of  holding  the  bridle,  and  that  put  it 
out  of  her  head.  The  traveller  and  his  sister 
were  of  the  riding  party  this  evening.  The 
traveller's  sister  was  a  remarkably  good  horse- 
woman, and  the  conversation  turned  upon 
cowards,  who  die  many  times  before  their 
death ;  and  the  valiant,  who  never  taste  death 
but  once.  It  was  observed  by  the  traveller 
and  his  sister,  that  Rosamond  would  ride  very 
well ;  that  she  had  a  very  good  seat;  that  she 
had  a  rnncli  better  seat  than  Helen  ;  that  she 
was  not  a  coward.  &c.  All  these  observations 
flattered  Rosamond  not  a  little ;  she  found  the 
pony  go  remarkably  well,  and  her  spirits  rose; 
she  got  from  a  canter  into  a  gallop,  and  went 
on  so  fast  that  her  father  several  times  called 
to  her,  to  desire  her  not  to  ride  so  fast,  and  to 
keep  near  him ;  but  she,  proud  to  show  her 
horsemanship,  went  on  with  Godfrey,  who 
admired,  and  was  proud  of  his  sister's  spirit, 


ROSAMOND.  159 

as  he  called  it.  The  evening  was  fine,  and 
the  road  good,  and  all  went  on  charmingly ; 
Rosamond  pretended  to  be  quite  at  ease,  and 
Godfrey  so  completely  deceived  by  her  seem- 
ing bravery,  that  he  got  deep  into  a  calcula- 
tion concerning  his  future  plantations,  and 
into  the  plan  of  the  house  which  he  was  to 
build,  with  the  profit  of  the  trees  he  was 
reckoning  before  they  were  planted. 

I  Yon  shall  draw  the  plan  of  the  house,  Ro- 
samond,' said  he. 

I I  will,  certainly.'  said  Rosamond.  '  But, 
brother,  will  you  get  me  a  bough  for  this 
pony,  the  flies  are  teasing  her  sadly,  I  think.' 

'  Not  at  all,  my  dear.  My  library  shall  be 
a  great  deal  larger,  I  promise  you,  than  the 
library  at  Wotton  ;  do  you  recollect  how 
many  feet  long  the  library  at  Egerton  Abbey 
is,  Rosamond  V 

1 1  don't  recollect,  indeed,'  said  Rosamond ; 
*  twenty,  thirty — the  pony  certainly  is  grow- 
ing uneasy,'  thought  she,  'I  believe  we  are 
coming  to  the  black  lane.' 

1  Twenty,  thirty,  my  dear  !  what  can  you 
be  thinking  of? — nearer  forty.  I  believe,  af- 
ter all,  you  are  afraid  of  the  horse  flies.' 

'  Not  the  least,'  said  Rosamond,  struggling 
to  conceal  her  fears  ;  '  forty,  nearer  forty,  as 
you  say,  I  believe  it  is.' 

'  Well,  my  library  shall  be  full  forty  feet 
long;  and  what  breadth,  Rosamond?' 

c  Breadth?  O,  very  broad;  any  breadth,' 
said  Rosamond,     f  But  what  place  is  this  we 


160  EARLY    LESSONS. 

are  coming  to,  Godfrey  V  said  she,  looking  to 
some  trees,  and  a  house  at  a  little  distance. 
'  Now  we  are  coming  to  the  black  lane.' 
thought  she,  but  did  not  dare  to  tell  her  fears, 
or  to  pronounce  the  name. 

'  I  see  nothing  but  a  farm  house  ;  I  don't 
know  whose  it  is,  and  what  does  it  signify  V 
said  Godfrey.  '  My  library  shall  have  gothic 
windows,  which  you  like,  don't  you,  Rosa- 
mond?' 

'  O  yes,  gothic ;  yes,  certainly.  But  do 
call  Richard,  brother,  for  the  saddle  is  turn- 
ing, or  going  to  turn,  I  believe  ;  the  girth  is 
too  tight,  or  too  loose,  or  something.' 

'  No  such  thing,'  said  Godfrey,  '  the  saddle 
is  not  turning,  nor  going  to  turn.' 

'  Richard  !  Richard  !  get  down  and  look  at 
the  girths,'  said  Rosamond. 

Richard  alighted,  and  examined  the  girths. 

'  Pray  what  place  is  that  to  the  right,'  said 
she. 

'  The  black  lane,  miss,'  said  Richard. — 
'  The  girths  are  tight  enough,  sir.' 

'  Pray,  Richard,  why  is  this  lane  called 
black  V  asked   Rosamond. 

'  On  account,  miss,  of  the  hedges  being  all 
of  blackthorn.  In  former  times  it  used  to  be 
called  Blackthorn  lane,  so  then  it  came  to  be, 
for  shortness,  Black  lane.' 

On  hearing  this  explanation,  all  the  sublime 
and  mysterious  ideas  Rosamond  had  formed 
of  the  black  lane  were  instantly  dispelled,  and 
she  was  now  only  apprehensive  that  her  bro- 


ROSAMOND. 


161 


ther  should  find  them  out,  and  laugh  at  her. 
Therefore,  going  to  the  contrary  extreme,  she 
in  a  moment  went  from  cowardice  to  rash- 
ness ;  she  would  neither  allow  the  servant  to 
ride  on,  as  he  proposed,  that  he  might  keep 
between  her  and  the  turn  to  the  lane  ;  nor 
would  she  let  Godfrey  take  her  bridle,  nor  yet 
would  she  wait  till  her  father  should  come 
up.  On  she  went  cantering,  to  prove  that  she 
was  not  timorsome,  and  to  raise  Godfrey's  ad- 
miration of  her  courage  ;  but  at  the  moment 
when  her  courage  was  most  wanting,  unfor- 
tunately it  suddenly  failed  ;  just  as  she  came 
to  the  turn  she  lost  her  presence  of  mind,  and, 
looking  down  the  lane,  checked  the  bridle, 
turning  the  pony's  head  the  wrong  way. 

VOL.  II.      14 


162 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


Godfrey  snatched  at  her  bridle,  missed  it, 
and  off  she  went  down  the  lane  full  gallop, 
Rosamond  screaming.  Godfrey  and  the  groom 
after  her.  There  was  a  gate  at  the  end  of 
the  lane,  leading  into  the  farm-yard ;  the  po- 
ny stopped  suddenly  at  the  gate,  and  Rosa- 
mond was  thrown  over  her  head,  and  over 
the  gate  into  the  yard.  Godfrey  was  so  much 
terrified  that,  he  saw  no  more  ;  the  groom 
rode  on  ;  and  when  he  came  to  the  gate  he 
saw  Rosamond  lying  on  a  heap  of  straw, 
which  had  been  left  in  the  farm-*yard,  and  on 
which,  most  happily,  she  had  been  thrown. 
She  was  stunned  however  by  the  fall,  and  lay 
motionless.  Godfrey  raised  her  up  a  little, 
and  the  moment  she  recovered  her  recollec- 
tion she  exclaimed,  '  I  am  not  hurt,  my  dear 
Godfrey  ;  don't  be  frightened,  I  am  not  the 
Ipasf  hui*t 

'Thank  God  !  O  thank  God  !'  cried  Godfrey. 

c  Thank  God  !'  repeated  Rosamond  ;  and 
starting  up  to  convince  her  brother  that  she 
was  not  hurt,  she  attempted  to  walk ;  but  the 
instant  she  put  her  left  foot  to  the  ground, 
she  felt  that  her  ankle  was  strained. 

'  Never  mind  it,'  said  she,  sitting  down  a- 
gain ;  '  the  pain  is  not  great,  Godfrey ;  if  you 
can  put  me  upon  the  pony  again,  I  think  I 
can  ride  home ;  it  is  only  three  miles  ;  that 
will  be  best ;  then  I  shall  not  alarm  father 
and  mother  ;  so  say  nothing  about  it.  I  dare 
say  the  pain  will  go  off,  and  I  shall  be  well 
to-morrow.    Besides,  you  know,  Mrs. What's- 


ROSAMOND.  163 

her-name  says,  that  nobody  will  ever  be  a 
good  horsewoman,  who  does  not  get  upon  her 
horse  again  directly  after  having  had  a  first 
fall.  I  am  determined  I  will  not  give  it  up, 
I  will  go  through  with  spirit.' 

Godfrey  admired  her  courage,  though  he 
insisted  upqn  telling  all  that  had  happened, 
when  they  should  arrive  at  home;  he  did  not 
object  to  her  remounting  the  pony.  Rosa- 
mond had  secretly  hoped  that  he  would  have 
objected  to  it  ;  and  now,  between  her  preten- 
ded courage  and  real  cowardice,  she  was  in  a 
great  difficulty.  The  groom,  standing  with 
the  stirrup  in  hand,  was  anxious  that  she 
should  remount  and  ride  home,  and  that  no- 
thing more  should  be  said  ;  while  the  pru- 
dent farmer  and  his  wife,  who  had  come  out 
into  the  yard  to  quiet  their  dogs,  and  to  offer 
assistance,  dissuaded  Rosamond  from  the  at- 
tempt ;  and  the  farmer  giving  the  nod  of  au- 
thority to  one  of  his  sons,  the  boy  ran  off, 
quick  as  an  arrow  from  a  bow  ;  he  ran  till 
he  met  the  riding  party  and  told  what  had 
happened.  In  a  few  minutes,  and  before  the 
groom  could  settle  girths  and  curb  to  Rosa- 
mond's satisfaction,  she  saw  her  father  gal- 
loping down  the  lane.  This  lane  was  so  nar- 
row that  the  carriage  could  not  come  along  it 
to  the  farm-yard.  Her  father  forbad  the  at- 
tempt to  remount  the  pony  ;  and  Rosamond 
was  carried  to  the  landau,  and  laid  on  the 
front  seat.  Her  mother  and  Laura  had  suf- 
fered much  from  anxiety  during  the  time  that 


164  EARLY    LESSONS. 

necessarily  passed,  till  the  arrival  of  Rosa- 
mond, who,  much  more  than  the  pain  of  her 
ankle,  felt  sorrow  for  having  alarmed  all  her 
friends  so  much  ;  and  she  regretted,  hut  re- 
gretted in  vain,  being  the  cause  of  ending,  in 
such  a  vexatious  manner,  this  happy  day. 

It  was  difficult  to  be  angry  with  Rosamond, 
however  well  inclined  to  it  her  friends  might 
feel  ;  her  contrition  turned  away  their  anger. 
Her  chief  concern  was  to  prevent  any  share 
of  the  blame  from  falling  on  her  brother. 

Godfrey  all  the  time  reproached  himself  for 
not  having  taken  better  care  of  her.  How 
they  at  last  divided  the  shares  of  blame  a- 
mong  them,  we  never  could  accurately  learn. 
But  we  know  that,  contrary  to  the  usual 
practice  on  such  occasions,  all  were  ready  to 
take  to  themselves  a  just  portion  :  and  a  due, 
but  not  more  than  a  due  share,  we  believe, 
was  thrown  upon  the  pony.  To  the  honor  of 
Helen  we  must  record,  that  she  did  above 
three  times  repeat,  that  she  had  warned  God- 
frey of  the  danger  ;  and  that  she  had  from 
the  first,  advised  Rosamond  to  be  careful  at 
that  turn  to  the  black  lane. 

Upon  examination  it  was  found  that  Rosa- 
mond's ankle  was  very  much  bruised  and 
swelled.  The  pain  increased  during  the  night, 
so  that  her  hopes  of  being  almost  well  next 
morning  vanished  when  the  day  arrived,  and 
even  to  her  sanguine  imagination  it  appeared 
a  little  doubtful,  whether  she  should  be  quite 
well  before  the  important  evening  fixed  for  a 


ROSAMOND.  165 

dance  to  be  given  at  Egerton  Abbey  the  en- 
suing week.  Meantime,  during  her  confine- 
ment to  the  house  and  to  the  sofa,  she  had 
leisure  for  some  solitary  reflections. 

'  After  all,  mother,'  said  she,  'I  was  blamed 
for  being  too  courageous,  but  the  fact  was, 
that  I  was  too  cowardly.  I  was  afraid  to  let 
Godfrey  see  that  I  was  afraid  ;  I  deceived 
him  by  my  pretended  bravery,  and  that  was 
the  reason  he  did  not  take  care  of  me  at  the 
right  time ;  all  this  arose  from  my  wanting  to 
show  that  I  could  ride  better  than  Helen.  In 
short,  I  was  thinking  more  of  what  people 
would  say  of  me,  than  of  what  was  prudent. 
However,  I  have  had  a  good  lesson  now,  mo- 
ther ;  no  danger  of  my  forgetting  it,  as  long 
as  I  live  !  You  need  not  smile,  Laura  ;  de- 
pend upon  it,  that,  as  long  as  ever  I  live,  if  I 
live  a  hundred  years,  I  never  will  again  be 
so  foolish  as  to  hazard  my  life,  and  to  alarm 
all  my  friends,  merely  for  the  sake  of  being 
praised  for  not  being  timorsome? 

Her  mother  much  approved  of  this  resolu- 
tion. 'And  depend  upon  it,  Laura,'  repeated 
Rosamond,  '  it  is  a  resolution  I  shall  keep, 
though  I  know  you  are  sure  that  I  shall  not.' 

'Sure  !  O  no,'  said  Laura;  'but  I  only 
fear  a  little,  that  Godfrey — ' 

'  Never  fear,'  interrupted  Rosamond.  '  I 
am  too  wise  now.' 

During  the  remainder  of  this  day,  and  for 
two  or  three  succeeding  days,  Rosamond  con- 
tinued  in   the   same   prudent   and   cautious 


166  EARLY    LESSONS. 

mood;  and  this  lasted  till  the  swelling  of  the 
ankle  abated,  the  inflammation  ceased,  the 
bruises  faded,  in  due  course,  from  black  to 
blue,  and  from  blue  to  yellow.  Then  Rosa- 
mond, soon  forgetting  the  taste  of  pain,  began 
again  to  entertain  high  thoughts  of  future 
rides,  especially  when  she  saw  Godfrey  with 
his  boots  on,  his  whip  in  his  hand,  and  his 
horse,  his  bright  black  horse,  led  round  with- 
in view  of  the  windows. 

1  What  a  delightful  day  !  I  am  glad  you 
are  going  to  ride,  brother.' 

'  And  I  am  sorry  you  cannot  ride  with  me, 
poor  dear  Rosamond.  Your  ankle  is  getting 
well,  is  not  it  V 

'  Yes,  quite  well — almost,'  said  Rosamond. 
'  Very  soon  I  shall  be  able  to  walk  again,  and 
I  think  I  might  ride  before  I  walk,  might  not 
I  ?    What  do  you  think,  Godfrey  V 

1  Certainly,  I  dare  say,'  said  Godfrey. 

'  What  do  you  think,  Laura  V 

1  I  think  the  stirrup  would  hurt  you  very 
much,'  said  Laura ;  '  and  that  you  had  better 
wait  till  your  foot  is  quite  well,  before  you 
attempt  to  ride  again.  But  here  comes  moth- 
er, ask  her.' 

'  No,  no,  I  was  only  asking  you  ;  I  will 
not  ask  her  yet.     Good  bye,  brother.' 

The  next  day  Rosamond  found  that  she 
could  walk  a  little  with  a  cane,  and  it  was 
with  some  difficulty  she  submitted  to  be  kept 
prisoner  on  the  sofa.     However,  in  the  hope 


ROSAMOND. 


167 


that  she  should  the  sooner  he  ahle  to  ride, 
she  lay  still. 

The  morning  shone,  and  again  the  riding 
party  appeared ;  and  Godfrey,  beside  her  sofa, 
again  wished  her  Good-bye,  and  hoped  she 
would  be  able  to  ride  again  very  soon. 

'Very  soon,'  said  Rosamond;  'I  long  to 
ride  again.' 

'I  quite  admire  her  spirit,'  cried  the  trav- 
eller's sister,  drawing  on  her  gloves,  and  walk- 
ing out  of  the  room  as  fast  as  the  long  swa- 
things  of  her  riding  habit  would  permit.  '  I 
quite  admire  her  spirit  !  and  I  prophesy,  she 
will  make  a  capital  horsewoman.' 


168  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'I  always  said  so,'  cried  Godfrey,  follow- 
ing her,  but  paused  at  the  door  to  hear  what 
Rosamond  was  saying. 

'  How  soon  do  you  think,  mother,'  said  Ro- 
samond,  '  that  I  shall  be  able  to  ride  again  V 

'I  do  not  know,  my  dear  ;  but  whenever 
you  do  ride  again,  I  hope  you  will  remember 
your  prudent  resolutions.' 

:  O  yes,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  I  shall  never 
forget  the  black  lane.' 

'  But  you  ought  to  forget  it,'  cried  Godfrey, 
(  or  you  never  will  be  a  good  horsewoman  as 
long  as  you  live,  Rosamond,  and  you  will  be 
a  coward  at  last.' 

With  this  denunciation,  pronounced  with 
alarming  emphasis,  he  shut  the  door,  ran  to 
mount  his  horse,  and  an  instant  afterwards 
Rosamond  saw  him  galloping  past  the  win- 
dows. 

1 1  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  ride  to-morrow/ 
said  she  to  Laura  ;  '  and  I  hope  I  shall  not 
be  a  coward  at  last  ;  for  after  all,  mother, 
Godfrey  would  despise  me  if  I  were  a  cow- 
ard ;  so  we  must  not  think  about  the  black 
lane  too  much,  mother.' 

'  Not  too  much,  my  dear  ;  I  would  not  make 
you  a  coward,  I  would  only  make  you  pru- 
dent, if  I  could.' 

'  Prudent  !  O  yes.  But,  mother,  did  you 
hear  Godfrey's  last  words,  that  I  ought  quite 
to  forget  the  black  lane,  or  I  never  shall  be  a 
good  horsewoman  as  long  as  I  live  V 

;  Well,  my  dear,'  said  her  mother,  smiling 


ROSAMOND.  169 

at  the  earnest  look  of  alarm  with  which  Ros- 
amond repeated  these  words  ;  '  and  even  sup- 
pose that  terrible  prophesy  were  to  be  accom- 
plished, it  is  not  the  most  dreadful  thing  that 
could  happen  to  you  ;  nor  would  it  even  be 
the  most  glorious,  if  you  accomplished  the 
lady's  flattering  prediction,  and  were  to  be- 
come a  most  capital  horsewoman.' 

Rosamond,  blushing  a  little,  answered,  that 
indeed  she  had  no  ambition  to  be  a  capital 
horsewoman,  but  she  really  thought  a  woman 
ought  not  to  be  a  coward.  In  this  last  asser- 
tion she  was  uncontradicted  by  her  mother. 

Nothing  more  was  said  upon  the  subject  at 
this  time  ;  but  when  the  surgeon,  who  atten- 
ded Rosamond,  came,  she  asked  very  anx- 
iously whether  she  might  ride  the  next  day  1 
The  surgeon  advised  against  it,  and  gave  her 
several  good  reasons,  to  which,  in  her  disap- 
pointment, she  did  not  much  listen.  The  on- 
ly words  she  retained  were  these,  Whenever 
you  can  walk  without  pain,  then  you  may 
safely  venture  to  ride.  No  sooner  was  the 
surgeon  gone,  than  Rosamond  began  trying 
how  well  she  could  walk  ;  and  the  occasional 
remonstrances  of  Laura,  Mrs.  Egerton,  and 
her  mother,  were  constantly  answered  with 
'  Indeed  it  does  not  hurt  me.' 

The  next  morning  when  she  got  up,  she  as- 
sured Laura,  she  could  walk  without  pain — - 
almost  without  pain.  This  however  did  not 
appear  so  clearly  in  her  countenance  as  in 

VOL.  II.      15 


170  EARLY    LESSONS. 

her  words  ;  there  was  a  wincing,  every  now 
and  then,  which  betrayed  that  she  suffered. 

1  This  is  quite  foolish,  very  imprudent,  Ro- 
samond,' said  her  mother.  'You  may  per- 
haps lame  yourself  for  life,  if  you  attempt  in 
this  manner  to  walk  before  your  ankle  is 
strong.' 

1  My  dear,  be  prudent,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton, 
1  and  submit  to  lie  still  on  the  sofa  a  few  days 
longer.' 

Rosamond,  sighing,  let  herself  be  led  back 
to  the  sofa  after  breakfast,  and  there  perhaps 
she  might  quietly  have  remained  all  the  mor- 
ning ;  but  it  happened,  that  at  a  time  when 
none  of  her  guardians  were  beside  her,  God- 
frey came  in  and  whispered,  that  in  conse- 
quence of  what  she  had  told  him  yesterday, 
that  she  could  walk  without  pain,  and  that 
she  might  ride  whenever  she  could  walk 
without  pain,  he  had  ordered  the  pony  to  be 
brought  to  the  door,  that  she  might  try.' 

Rosamond  shook  her  head,  and  answered, 
that  she  was  afraid  her  mother  would  not  be 
pleased  ;  and  that  she  was  afraid  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton would  not  be  pleased  ;  and  that,  in  short, 
she  believed  it  would  not  be  prudent. 

1  In  short,'  said  Godfrey  laughing,  {  you 
are  afraid,  that's  the  plain  fact.' 

The  lady  who  had  prophesied  that  Rosa- 
mond would  be  a  capital  rider,  heard  the 
words,  and  smiled  a  little  as  in  scorn  ;  and 
after  some  more  persuasions  Rosamond  con- 
sented just  to  try  whether  it  would  hurt  her 


ROSAMOND.  171 

to  put  her  foot  in  the  stirrup.  She  went  to 
put  on  her  habit,  and  not  finding  either  her 
mother  or  Laura,  who  had  gone  out  to  walk, 
she  excused  herself  to  herself  for  doing  what 
she  knew  was  imprudent,  and  what  they 
would  not  approve,  by  thinking,  '  They  are 
too  timid,  too  much  afraid  of  me.  I  will  on- 
ly take  one  turn  round  the  little  back  lawn  ; 
and  the  surgeon  said  that  when  I  could  walk 
without  pain  I  might  ride  ;  and  now  it  gives 
me  very  little  pain  to  walk.' 

Thus  cheating  her  conscience,  and  forget- 
ting her  prudent  resolutions,  Rosamond  went 
down  stairs,  crossing  the  hall  quickly,  lest 
she  should  be  stopped  by  Mrs.  Egerton,  whose 
step  she  heard  in  a  distant  passage.  God- 
frey put  her  on  the  pony,  and  the  lady  whose 
praise  and  prophesy  had  excited  her  so  much, 
looked  out  of  the  window,  and  admired  her 
spirit. 

1  I  am  afraid  it  is  imprudent,'  thought  Ro- 
samond, '  but  I  cannot  draw  back  now,  it 
would  seem  so  cowardly.  I  will  only  go 
once  round  this  little  lawn,  and  I  shall  be 
home  again  in  five  minutes.' 

As  she  went  round  the  lawn,  her  ankle,  she 
said,  did  not  hurt  her  much — '  that  is,  not 
very  much.' 

As  she  came  back,  she  was  sorry,  and  a 
little  alarmed,  when  she  saw  her  father  and 
mother  standing  at  the  hall  door  waiting  for 
her.  Godfrey  called  out  triumphantly,  'you 
see  I  have  brought  her  home  quite  safe.' 


172  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Rosamond  would  have  added  something, 
but  observing  that  both  her  father  and  mo- 
ther looked  very  grave,  she  forgot  the  sen- 
tence about  the  surgeon,  which  she  had  pre- 
pared in  her  own  defence,  and  could  only  say 
1  I  hope  you  are  not  displeased  with  me,  mo- 
ther 1  lam  afraid,  father,  you  are  not  pleased?' 

Godfrey  jumped  from  his  horse,  and  ran  to 
take  her  down  from  the  pony. 

'My  ankle,'  said  Rosamond,  'does not  give 
me  any' — pain,  she  would  have  said,  had  not 
her  feelings  at  the  moment,  and  the  manner 
in  which  she  walked,  or  attempted  to  walk, 
so  contradicted  the  assertion,  that  she  stopped 
short,  and  indeed  was  forced  to  catch  hold  of 
Godfrey's  arm.  Her  father  put  him  aside, 
saying,  '  Leave  your  sister  to  me,  young  man,' 
in  a  tone  which  implied,  '  you  are  not  fit  to 
be  trusted  with  her.'  Then  taking  her  up  in 
his  arms,  her  father  carried  her  to  the  library, 
and  to  the  sofa  ;  she  all  the  time  going  on 
with  such  apologies  as  she  could  make,  more 
for  Godfrey  than  for  herself. 

'  It  is  not  Godfrey's  fault,  it  was  all  my 
fault,  indeed  it  was ;  he  held  my  bridle  all  the 
time  ;  I  told  him  it  did  not  hurt  me  at  all.' 

'  It  is  very  little  satisfaction  to  me,  that  you 
told  him  what  was  false,'  said  her  father. 

'  But  I  did  not  know  it  till  afterwards,  fa- 
ther, till  I  took  my  foot  out  of  the  stirrup.' — 
Then  she  got  out  her  favorite  sentence  about 
the  surgeon,  ending  with  an  appeal  to  her 
mother.   '  You  know,  mother,  he  said  I  might 


ROSAMOND.  173 

ride  whenever  I  could  walk  without  pain?' 

'  But  you  know,  Rosamond,'  said  her  mo- 
ther, in  a  tone  which  re-appealed  to  her  con- 
science, and  required,  in  answer,  the  exact- 
ness of  truth,  '  you  know,  Rosamond,  that 
you  could  not  walk  without  pain.' 

'Not  without  a  little  pain,'  said  Rosamond. 

1  And  you  recollect,  Rosamond,  that  I  had 
advised  you  not  to  attempt  it,  and  you  made 
a  great  many  wise  reflections  and  resolutions, 
and  yet  you  went  and  did  directly  the  con- 
trary to  that,  which  you  were  convinced  was 
best,  the  moment  we  left  you.' 

1  O  Laura,  my  dear,  I  wish  you  had  been 
in  our  room  when  I  went  to  put  on  my  habit.' 

'  How  I  wish  I  had  not  gone  out, 'said  Laura. 

'  But,  dear  Laura,  that  was  not  your  fault. 
I  only  mean  to  say,  mother,  that  if  either  of 
you  had  been  there,  I  would  not  have  gone 
without  asking  your  advice  and  consent;  and 
one  thing  more  I  may  say  in  my  own  defence.' 

'  No,  no,  Rosamond,'  interrupted  her  fath- 
er, l  let  me  hear  no  more  childish  defences 
and  excuses  ;  do  not  let  me  see  you  go  back 
to  all  the  faults  of  your  childhood.' 

'  Say  no  more,  say  no  more,  my  dear  Ro- 
samond,' whispered  Godfrey,  who  stood  in 
great  anxiety  at  the  back  of  the  sofa,  as  close 
to  her,  and  as  quiet  as  possible. 

'  You  are  no  longer  a  child,  Rosamond,' 
continued  her  father,  '  and  therefore  I  am  se- 
riously concerned  to  find  that  you  have  so 
little  prudence  and  steadiness.' 


174  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  I  assure  you,  my  dear  father,  I  never  will 
be  so  foolish,  so  imprudent  again.' 

(  What  satisfaction,  or  what  security,  my 
dear,  can  such  assurances  give  me  of  your  fu- 
ture conduct  V  said  her  father.  '  I  judge  by 
actions,  not  by  words.' 

'  But  such  a  trifling  action!'  said  Rosamond. 
'  Surely  you  would  not  seriously  judge  of  me, 
and  be  alarmed  for  my  future  conduct,  by 
such  a  trifling  imprudence;  especially  when,' 
— She  stopped,  for  something  in  her  father's 
countenance  warned  her,  that  he  knew  what 
she  was  going  to  add,  and  that  it  would  not 

avail. '  Especially  when  it  has  done  no 

harm,  you  were  going  to  say  V 

'  Yes,  that  toas  what  I  was  going  to  say.' 

And  that  was  what  Godfrey's  looks  had 
been  saying  all  the  time. 

1  Your  having  escaped,  if  you  have  escap- 
ed, hurting  your  ankle,  or  doing  yourself  any 
serious  mischief,  rather  increases  than  lessens 
my  alarm,'  said  her  father;  'because  this 
would  encourage  you  to  venture  to  be  again 
imprudent  another  time.  You  say,  that  I 
need  not  be  alarmed,  and  that  I  should  not 
judge  of  you  by  such  a  trifle  ;  nothing  is  a 
trifle  that  marks  an  imprudent  disposition  in 
a  woman  ;  and  by  what  can  I  judge  of  you 
but  by  such  things  ?  You  are  not  called  up- 
on yet  to  make  decisions  for  your  own  con- 
duct in  matters  of  consequence.' 

'  I  am  sure  I'm  glad  of  it,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  But  soon  you  will,'  said  her  mother  j  '  and 


ROSAMOND.  175 

consider,  Rosamond,  that  then  every  trifling 
imprudence  may  be  of  serious  consequence — 
irreparable  consequence.  If  you  are  to  be  so 
easily  swayed  from  your  better  judgment,  so 
easily  persuaded  by  any  one  who  comes  near 
you,  so  easily  excited  by  any  foolish  praise 
or  idle  vanity,  to  act  contrary  to  your  own 
resolutions,  contrary  to  your  conviction  of 
what  is  best,  of  what  use  will  be  all  your 
good  sense,  all  your  good  dispositions,  all 
your  good  principles  V 

1  AIL  my  good  education  !  All  you  have 
done  for  me  !'  said  Rosamond.     '  O  mother  !' 

Tears  now  flowed  so  fast,  that  she  could 
say  no  more. 

Godfrey  then  burst  forth,  *  Father,  I  own 
I  thought  you  were  wrong  at  first,  and  too 
angry  about  a  trifle  ;  but  now  I  understand 
your  reasons  and  mother's  ;  and  I  think  you 
are  quite  right,  and  I  was  quite  wrong  ;  and 
I  am  sorry  for  it ;  but  you  shall  see,  that  now 
and  forevermore,  I  am  fit  to  be  trusted  with 
the  care  of  my  sister.' 

'  I  shall  be  glad  of  it,  and  still  more  glad 
to  see,  that  she  can  be  trusted  with  the  care 
of  herself,'  said  her  father. 

1  And  I  prophesy,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton,  who 
had  not  till  now  spoken  one  word,  '  I  venture 
to  prophesy,  that  Rosamond,  witli  so  much 
candor,  and  so  true  a  desire  to  improve,  will 
become  a  most  prudent  woman.' 

{  Rather  a  better  prophesy  for  me,'  said  Ro- 
samond, wiping  away  her  tears  and  smiling, 


176  EARLY   LESSONS. 

1  than  that  I  shall,  with  so  much  spirit,  be- 
come a  most  capital  rider.  But  my  dear  kind 
Mrs.  Egerton,  you  are  too  good  to  me  ;  the 
worst,  the  most  foolish  thing  I  did,  in  this 
whole  business,  you  do  not  yet  know.  When 
I  heard  your  voice  at  a  distance,  I  ran  away, 
lest  you  should  see  me,  and  advise  me  not  to 

go-' 

'  That  certainly  was  foolish,  Rosamond : 
but  now  you  have  told  me  the  worst  thing 
you  did,  I  must  say  that  the  best  thing  you 
have  done  is  to  confess  it  so  candidly,'  said 
Mrs.  Egerton,  kissing  her. 

'Don't  flatter,  don't  spoil  my  daughter,' 
said  her  father.  '  Let  me  see  that  her  candor 
is  not  of  the  useless  sort.  Let  me  see  that 
she  is  not  one  of  those, 

•  Who  own  their  faults,  but  never  mend.' 


ROSAMOND.  177 


THE  PALANQUIN. 


Either  from  the  pressure  on  Rosamond's 
foot  in  riding,  or  from  her  precipitation  in  dis- 
mounting, a  fresh  twist  had  been  given  to  her 
ankle.  We  pretend  not  to  decide  among  dis- 
puted causes  ;  the  consequence  was  indisput- 
able, that  Rosamond  was  not  able  to  walk  a- 
gain  for  a  fortnight.  But  from  almost  all  the 
unfortunate  circumstances  of  life,  and  even 
from  those  evils  which  we  have  brought  upon 
ourselves,  by  our  own  fault  or  folly,  some  con- 
soling, if  not  counterbalancing,  good  often  a- 
rises,  or  may  be  drawn  by  those  who  know 
how  to  make  use  of  the  lessons  of  experience. 

So  it  was  with  Rosamond.  The  amiable 
temper  she  showed,  the  patience  with  which 
she  bore  pain,  disappointment  and  confine- 
ment, increased  the  affection  of  all  her  friends, 
and  especially  of  her  brother  Godfrey.  He, 
considering  himself  as  in  a  part  the  cause  of 
the  blame  and  suffering  she  had  incurred,  was 
peculiarly  sensible  of  her  good  temper  and 
generosity,  in  never,  directly  or  indirectly,  re- 
proaching or  throwing  on  him  any  part  of  the 
blame.  Many  little  trials  of  temper,  and 
some  trials  of  prudence  occurred. 

Mrs.  Egerton  put  off  her  ball  on  Rosamond's 
account  for  a  week,  but  when  the  adjourned 
day  arrived,  Rosamond's  ankle  was  still  weak. 
She  could  stand  indeed,  she  could  walk,  and 


178  EARLY    LESSONS. 

she  believed  she  could  dance,  yet  she  had  the 
prudence  to  forbear  the  attempt.  She  lay 
quietly  all  the  evening  on  her  sofa;  a  passive 
spectator  of  that  ball,  in  which  she  had  once 
hoped  to  have  been  a  most  active,  perhaps  a 
most  admired  performer  ;  for  having  had  the 
best  of  masters,  having  practised  quadrilles 
the  last  season  in  Loudon,  with  great  dili- 
gence and  success,  with  some  of  the  most 
promising  rising  geniuses  of  the  age,  and  of 
the  most  fashionable  names,  Rosamond  could 
not  but  be  aware,  that  she  had  great  chance 
of  excelling  any  country  competitors ;  and  of 
being  perhaps  envied  as  well  as  admired  for 
her  superior  skill.  But  even  here  there  were 
counterbalancing  advantages. 

While  she  was  a  passive  spectator,  asitter- 
by  at  this  ball,  she  had  opportunity  of  seeing, 
hearing,  observing,  and  feeling  much,  for 
which  otherwise  she  would  have  had  no  leis- 
ure. At  this  ball,  which  Mrs.  Egerton  inten- 
ded for  her  young  friends,  there  were  assem- 
bled a  great  number  of  young  ladies  ;  and 
among  these  were  two  of  Rosamond's  London 
acquaintance,  who  danced  for  fame,  and  dan- 
ced exceedingly  well.  There  were  others, 
who  danced  less  well,  but  with  more  ease  and 
gaiety  of  heart  ;  and  who  were  obviously 
free  from  anxiety,  jealousy,  or  envy.  Rosa- 
mond observed  how  much  happier  these  were 
than  the  exhibitors  ;  and  further,  she  heard 
the  opinions  of  all  the  spectators  near  her,  es- 
pecially of  her  favorite  traveller,  who  had  seen 


ROSAMOND.  179 

so  much  of  the  world.  Whenever  the  exhib- 
itors were  dancing,  the  spectators  pressed  for- 
ward to  see  them  ;  and  after  admiring  and 
criticising,  with  a  freedom  which  astonished 
Rosamond,  they  always  ended  by  declaring, 
that  they  preferred  dancing  which  was  quiet 
and  gentlewomanlike  to  that  which  was  in  it- 
self superior,  but  which  was  evidently  perfor- 
med to  produce  effect,  and  excite  admiration. 

Rosamond  attended  anxiously  when  her 
sister  was  spoken  of ;  and  had  the  pleasure 
of  hearing  several,  who  did  not  know  how 
much  she  was  interested  in  what  they  were 
saying,  bestow  approbation  of  the  most  grat- 
ifying sort  upon  'that  graceful,  modest  young 
person.'  Rosamond  had,  more  than  once,  the 
satisfaction  of  answering,  when  asked,  '  Do 
you  know  that  young  lady  V  l  Yes,  sir,  she 
is  my  sister.' 

A  lady,  who  was  sitting  near  the  sofa  on 
which  Rosamond  lay,  seemed  to  be  attracted 
by  something  in  her  countenance,  and  drew 
nearer  and  nearer,  till  at  last,  by  seizing  the 
vacated  places  of  those  who  stood  up  to  dance 
or  to  talk,  she  obtained  the  seat  next  to  the 
arm  of  the  sofa. 

This  lady  was  not  young,  nor  very  hand- 
some, nor  was  she  a  person  of  fortune  or 
rank  ;  but  she  seemed  one  of  the  happiest  in 
the  room.  She  had  a  most  benevolent,  cheer- 
ful countenance,  and  took  particular  and  de- 
lighted interest  in  attending  to  some  of  the 
dancers.     She  was  a  Mrs.  Harte.     In  times 


180  EARLY   LESSONS. 

long  past,  she  had  been  governess  to  a  sister 
of  Helen,  who  died  ;  and  Mrs.  Egerton,  sen- 
sible of  her  merit,  had  assisted  in  establishing 
her  in  a  school  in  the  neighborhood.  Many 
of  the  young  people  who  were  at  this  ball 
had  been  her  pupils  ;  and  Mrs.  Egerton  had 
invited  her,  on  purpose  that  she  might  have 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  them  and  their  pa- 
rents. The  parents  and  the  young  people  all 
loved  and  respected  her.  When  Rosamond 
saw  the  aifectionate  manner  in  which  they 
all  came  and  spoke  to  Mrs.  Harte,  she  could 
not  help  being  interested  for  her,  though  she 
was  a  stranger  to  this  lady. 

Rosamond' s  pleasure  this  evening  chiefly 
arose  from  her  sympathy  in  these  benevolent 
feelings.  Though  her  ankle  at  times  gave 
her  pain,  and  though  she  was  prevented  from 
dancing,  of  which,  independently  of  all  van- 
ity, she  was  naturally  and  heartily  fond,  yet 
she  was  very  happy.  As  she  observed  to 
Laura,  when  they  went  to  rest,  she  was  much 
happier  than  she  had  been  at  the  ball  at  the 
Folliott  Brown's,  or  on  any  occasion  where 
she  had  only  enjoyed  the  triumphs,  or  mixed 
in  the  petty  competitions  of  vanity. 

Mrs.  Harte's  young  friends,  in  talking  over 
old  times  with  her  this  night,  recurred  to 
many  '  very  happy  days1  of  their  childhood ; 
and  among  others  they  mentioned  that  time 
when  they  acted  a  certain  tiny  play,  which  a 
friend  wrote  on  purpose  for  them,  and  which 
they  performed   merely   among   themselves, 


ROSAMOND.  181 

and  for  Mrs.  Harte's  amusement.  Rosamond 
wished  to  know  the  name  of  this  tiny  play. 
The  name  did  not  promise  much — The  Dame 
School  Holiday.  However,  Rosamond's  eyes 
still  expressing  some  wish  to  know  more,  Mrs 
Harte  obligingly  offered  to  have  it  looked  for, 
promising  that,  if  the  prompter's  mutilated 
copy  could  be  found,  it  should  be  sent  to  her 
in  the  course  of  a  week  ;  or  that,  if  she  could 
wait  so  long  as  a  fortnight,  a  perfect  copy 
should  be  made,  which  she  might  keep  for 
ever.  Of  course,  she  chose  that,  which  might 
be  kept  forever. 

Next  day,  Rosamond  told  Godfrey  of  this 
promise,  and  asked  him  whether  he  did  not 
think  that  a  certain  waste  room  in  Egerton 
Abbey  would  make  a  charming  theatre  1  but 
Godfrey  argued  ill  from  the  title  ;  observed, 
that  a  tiny  play  must  be  stupid  ;  and  as  to  a 
theatre,  he  had  not  time  to  think  of  it.  God- 
frey was  then  quite  intent  upon  making  a 
palanquin,  on  which  he  and  Laura  might  car- 
ry Rosamond  round  the  grounds,  without  in- 
jury to  her  sprained  ankle. 

Rosamond  would  much  rather  have  had 
the  play  than  the  palanquin,  she  said  ;  but 
Godfrey  held  to  his  purpose,  and  insisted  up- 
on it,  that  he  would  finish  the  palanquin  ; 
and  she  saw  that  she  must  be  delighted  with 
it,  though  she  confessed  to  Laura,  she  was 
more  afraid  of  being  carried  on  it,  than  of 
mounting  the  pony.  As  she  justly  observed, 
it  is  really  provoking  to  be  forced  to  be  oblig- 


182  EARLY   LESSONS. 

ed  to  a  person  for  something  which  you  would 
rather  he  would  not  do  ;  especially  when 
there  is  something  else  that  you  wish  very 
much  to  have  done. 

1  It  is  a  little  trial  of  temper  certainly,'  said 
her  mother  ;  'but  such  continually  occur,  ev- 
en between  the  best  friends  ;  and  there  is  no 
possibility  of  making  or  keeping  good  friends, 
my  dear,  without  such  little  sacrifices  of  the 
fancies  and  humors.  Either  you,  or  your 
brother,  you  see,  must  give  up  to  the  other 
the  fancy  of  the  moment.' 

'  Then  I  will  give  it  up  !'  cried  Rosamond. 
'I  will  say  no  more  to  him  about  acting  the 
play,  and  I  will  be  pleased  with  the  palan- 
quin he  is  making  for  me,  if  I  can.  If  I 
can,  mother,'  repeated  she.  'You  know,  if 
I  really  cannot  like  it,  I  must  say  so  ;  but 
I  will  say  it  as  kindly  to  Godfrey  as  I  can.' 

Rosamond  refrained,  though  not  without 
some  difficulty,  from  saying  any  thing  more 
to  Godfrey  about  the  play  ;  and  he  went  on 
working  indefatigably  at  his  own  favorite 
project  ;  till  at  length,  with  the  assistance  of 
his  father,  and  of  a  carpenter,  and  with  an 
old  chair  bottom,  and  two  poles,  Godfrey  did 
contrive  to  make  a  solid,  safe,  commodious 
palanquin.  Rosamond  acknowledged  it  was 
very  well  made  ;  and,  without  trembling 
much,  she  suffered  herself  to  be  placed  upon 
it ;  and  when  she  had  made  this  conquest  of 
herself  she  was  soon  delighted,  even  to  God- 
frey's complete  satisfaction,  with  the  palan- 


ROSAMOND.  183 

quin,  and  with  the  palanquin  bearers.  Of 
these  she  had  many  relays,  for  her  patience 
and  good-humor,  during  her  long  confinement, 
had  so  much  interested  every  body  at  Eger- 
ton  Abbey  in  her  favor,  that  all  were  eager 
to  offer  their  services  ;  and  the  orator  once 
stopped  half  way  in  a  fine  simile,  and  ran  to 
put  his  hands  under  her  palanquin.  In  this 
manner  Rosamond  was  carried  in  triumph,  as 
Godfrey  called  it;  but  what  was  much  better, 
carried  in  kindness ;  she  enjoyed  many  a  fine 
day,  and  many  a  pleasant  expedition.  The 
palanquin  became  her  greatest  delight  ;  and 
Godfrey's  satisfaction  in  his  success,  and  in 
his  sister's  obliging  manner  of  accepting  his 
kindness,  was  at  least  equal  to  her  pleasure. 

'  How  glad  I  am,  mother,  that  I  really  and 
truly  do  like  the  palanquin  !'  whispered  she 
to  her  mother  one  evening.  '  I  am  glad  that 
I  tried  it  fairly,  instead  of  telling  my  brother 
that  I  was  sure  I  should  never  like  it.' 

'  But,'  said  the  travelled  lady,  'I  have  seen 
such  handsome  palanquins  !  I  wish  you  had 
seen  such  palanquins  as  I  have  seen  !' 

1 1  wish  I  had,'  said  Rosamond,  1 1  mean,  I 
am  glad  I  have  not ;  for  then  perhaps  I  should 
not  like  mine  so  well.' 

'  It  would  be  well  enough  if  it  had  some- 
thing like  curtains;  but  really  a  palanquin 
without  curtains  is  little  better  than  a  hand- 
barrow.'  Rosamond  looked  at  Godfrey,  and 
Godfrey  looked  at  Rosamond,  and  they  both 
grew  rather  melancholy. 


184  EARLY    LESSONS. 

The  next  day  Rosamond  found  the  flies, 
and  the  sun,  and  the  dust,  and  the  wind,  very 
troublesome  :  and  Godfrey,  after  having  in 
vain  contended  that  there  was  no  wind,  no 
dust,  no  sun.  and  very  few  flies,  grew  angry, 
and  said  something  about  the  unreasonable- 
ness of  women,  who  were  never  satisfied  ;  and 
made  some  allusion  to  a  foolish  princess  in 
the  Arabian  Tales,  who  grew  dissatisfied  with 
her  delightful  palace,  from  the  moment  that 
an  old  woman  told  her  it.  wanted  a  roc's  egg. 

Rosamond,  vexed  at  this  mixture  of  truth 
and  falsehood,  justice  and  injustice,  in  her 
brother's  observations,  declared  that  she  could 
no  longer  bear  '  the  sun  shining  so  full  in  her 
eyes.'  Laura  took  off  her  green  veil  at  this 
moment  and  threw  it  over  Rosamond's  head, 
whispering,  as  she  tied  it  on,  '  the  sun  was 
as  hot,  and  hotter  than  it  is  now,  when  I  one 
day  saw  Godfrey  hard  at  work  for  hours,  at 
this  palanquin,  for  you,  Rosamond ;  so  I  am 
sure  you  will  bear  the  sun  in  your  eyes  for 
five  minutes,  rather  than  vex  him.' 

Rosamond  immediately  recollected  herself, 
and  begging  her  palanquin  bearers  to  stop  for 
one  minute,  placed  herself  with  her  back  to 
the  sun,  and  assured  Godfrey  that  she  was 
now  quite  comfortable ;  and  no  further  com- 
plaints were  heard  of  sun,  wind,  dust  or  flies. 

Godfrey,  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  house, 
began  to  consult  in  secret  with  Laura,  upon 
the  possibility  and  the  best  means  of  making 
curtains  to  the  palanquin.     Now  it  happened 


ROSAMOND.  185 

that  Laura  had  bought  some  pretty  green  silk 
with  which  she  had  intended  to  make  bags  for 
two  chiffonieres;  but  when  she  saw  how 
much  Godfrey  and  Rosamond  wished  for  the 
palanquin  curtains,  she  determined  that  she 
would  give  up  her  piece-bags.  Accordingly 
she  rose  an  hour  and  a  half  earlier  than  usual 
the  next  morning,  and  the  curtains  were 
made,  and  the  rings  sewn  on,  and  the  strings 
too,  before  she  was  called  to  breakfast. 

Godfrey  was  much  delighted,  for  though 
he  had  contrived  how  the  curtains  could  very 
easily  be  put  up,  and  though  he  had  provid- 
ed himself  with  four  brass  rods  belonging  to 
some  old  window  blinds,  which  Dr.  Egerton 
had  been  so  good  as  to  say  were  at  his  ser- 
vice, yet  he  had  been  quite  at  a  loss  for  some- 
thing of  which  to  make  the  curtains.  Mrs. 
Egerton's  stores,  and  the  housekeeper's  chests 
had  all  been  rummaged  in  vain.  He  never 
knew  however  the  extent  of  Laura's  kind- 
ness, till  Rosamond  saw  the  palanquin  with 
its  curtains,  when  she  immediately  exclaimed, 
( O  Laura,  this  is  your  doing  !  you  have  given 
me  the  silk  that  you  intended  for  your  chiffo- 
nieres ;  but  I  cannot  bear  to  rob  you  of  it.' 

Laura,  who  knew  how  to  do  kindness  so 
as  to  prevent  her  friends  from  ever  feeling  un- 
easy in  the  thought  that  they  deprived  her  of 
any  pleasure,  assured  Rosamond  that  these 
curtains  might  do  just  as  well  for  her  two 
bags,  after  they  had  been  used  for  the  palan- 

VOL.  II.      16 


186 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


quin  ;  and  that  therefore  she  had  more  plea- 
sure from  her  green  silk,  than  she  had  ever 
expected  that  this,  or  any  other  green  silk, 
could  give  her. 

Rosamond,  Godfrey,  and  Laura,  were  now 
pleased  with  themselves  and  with  each  other, 
as  friends  always  are,  when  they  feel  that 
they  have  each,  even  in  trifles,  borne  and  for- 
borne from  mutual  kindness. 

The  travelled  lady  found  many  faults  with 
the  manner  in  which  the  curtains  were  made, 
and  suggested  several  things  which  would  be 
necessary  to  make  Rosamond's  palanquin  like 
those  which  she  had  seen.  In  particular,  a 
tassel  in  the  middle  was  indispensable.  But 
Rosamond  smiled  at  Godfrey,  and  said,  that 
she  was  quite  satisfied  without  the  roc's  egg. 


ROSAMOND.  187 


THE  FOREST  DRIVE. 


{  The  time  will  soon  come,  when  you  will 
be  able  to  ride  again,  Miss  Rosamond,'  said 
the  traveller's  sister.  But  Rosamond  never 
attempted  to  ride  till  she  could  honestly  walk 
without  pain  ;  and,  when  she  rode,  it  was  in 
a  manner  which  convinced  her  father,  that 
she  was  not  one  of  those 

Who  own  their  faults,,  but  never  mend. 

The  next  time  she  came  within  sight  of  the 
black  lane,  she  permitted — no,  let  us  do  her 
justice — she  requested  careful  Richard  to  lead 
her  horse  past  the  dangerous  turn,  even  in  the 
face  and  front  of  all  the  remonstrances  and 
ridicule,  which  the  traveller's  sister  threw,  or 
might  have  thrown,  upon  her  want  of  spirit ; 
even  while  a  denunciation  sounded  on  her 
ear,  that  now  she  would  '  never  be  a  capital 
horsewoman.' 

Her  father  was  satisfied  in  the  main  point 
which  he  had  in  view,  and  which  he  knew  to 
be  of  so  much  consequence  to  his  daughter's 
future  character  and  happiness  ;  quite  satis- 
fied, since  she  showed  herself  able  to  do  stea- 
dily what  she  believed  to  be  best,  without  be- 
ing influenced  to  the  contrary  by  praise,  per- 
suasion, blame,  or  example. 

After  the  traveller's  sister  had  left  Egerton 
Abbey,  and  when  there  could  no  longer  be  any 


188  EARLY    LESSONS. 

doubt  of  the  motive, — when  Rosamond  had 
proved  that  she  had  conquered  her  foolish  am- 
bition to  be  a  distinguished  and  a  desperate 
lider,  her  father  took  her  Avith  him  to  the 
black  lane,  and  taught  her  to  manage  her 
horse,  so  as  to  pass  and  repass  in  perfect  safety. 

Though  the  traveller's  sister  had  left  Eger- 
ton  Abbey,  the  traveller  himself  still  remain- 
ed, much  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  young 
people,  as  his  varied  conversation,  full  of  in- 
teresting information,  made  him  a  most  agree- 
able companion  ;  and  he  was  so  goodnatured 
as  to  bestow  much  of  his  time  and  attention 
upon  Laura,  Rosamond  and  Godfrey. 

Rosamond,  though  now  able  to  walk  with- 
out pain,  was  advised  to  avoid  fatiguing  her 
ankle,  which  was  not  yet  quite  strong  ;  there- 
fore she  did  not  venture  upon  any  long  expe- 
dition. One  day,  some  walk  too  distant  for 
her  had  been  proposed.  Helen,  Laura  and 
Godfrey,  jointly  and  severally,  offered  to  give 
it  up,  and  to  take  some  shorter  walk,  which 
Rosamond  knew  was  not  half  so  pretty  ;  and 
a  generous  debate  on  the  subject  was  warmly 
commencing,  when  Mrs.  Egerton  moved  that 
Rosamond  should  accompany  her  in  the  gar- 
den chair,  as,  she  said,  she  particularly  wished 
for  her  company  for  one  hour ;  but  she  would 
let  her  walk  back  with  her  younger  friends. 

The  place  of  re-union  was  settled  to  be  at 
the  old  white  gate  into  the  forest ;  and  which- 
ever of  the  parties  should  arrive  first  was  to 
wait  for  the  other.     This  point  being  careful- 


ROSAMOND.  189 

ly  agreed  upon,  and  very  necessary  it  is  to  be 
accurate  in  such  agreements,  for  all  who 
would  avoid  disappointments  and  dissentions, 
the  parties  set  out  on  their  different  roads. 

As  Mrs.  Egerton  took  the  same  way  which 
she  had  formerly  gone,  when  they  went  to 
see  the  paralytic  woman,  Rosamond  said,  c  I 
know  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Egerton,  where  we 
are  going  ;  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  I  long  to 
see  that  poor  creature,  and  that  grateful  girl 
again.  Why  would  you  never  answer  any 
of  my  questions  about  them  V 

'  You  shall  have  all  your  questions  satis- 
factorily answered  presently,  my  dear,'  said 
Mrs.  E.  l  You  know  you  are  lately  grown 
remarkable  for  patience  7  and  since  you  will 
not  have  your  curiosity  satisfied  perhaps  this 
half  hour,  think  of  something  else.' 

'  How  difficult  it  is  to  think  of  something 
else,  when  one  is  bid  to  do  it  !  The  other  day, 
when  Godfrey  insisted  upon  my  never  think- 
ing of  what  colour  Dr.  Egerton' s  new  horse 
was  to  be,  I  found  that  black,  gray  and  brown 
would  flit  before  my  eyes,  till  I  drove  them 
away  by  an  excellent  expedient ;  by  trying 
to  recollect,  and  repeat  to  myself,  some  lines 
which  Laura  and  I  had  just  been  learning.' 

1  Try  the  experiment  again  now,'  said  Mrs. 
Egerton,  '  and  let  me  be  the  better  for  it.' 

'But  you  know  the  poem,  I  am  sure,'  said 
Rosamond.  '  It  is  one  of  those  translations 
from  the  Arabic,  which  Dr. Egerton  read  to  us, 
the  lines,  you  know,  by  the  generous  Hatem.' 


190  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  I  have  not  the  honor,  nor  pleasure  of  be- 
ing acquainted  with  the  generous  Hatem.' 

'  Is  it  possible,  ma'am,  you  can  have  forgot- 
ten him  1 

1 1  never  heard  any  lines  about  him,  my 
dear.' 

1  True,  I  remember  now  that  you  were  out 
of  the  room,  when  they  were  read.  Now,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Egerton,  if  you  do  not  like  them  as 
well  as  Laura  and  I  do,  I  shall  be  sorry.' 

'  Well,  my  love,  let  me  hear  them,  and  then 
I  can  judge.' 

1  But  as  you  were  not  in  the  room  when  the 
poem  was  read,  perhaps  you  did  not  hear  the 
anecdotes  of  Hatem,  which  are  given  in  the 
preface  to  the  poem,  by  the  translator  ;  I  for- 
get his  name,  but  I  know  he  was  a  professor 
of  the  Arabic,  and  from  Cambridge.' 

'  Well,  never  mind  his  name ;  let  me  hear 
what  he  says  of  Hatem,'  said  Mrs  Egerton. 

'  He  says,  ma'am,  that  his  poems  express- 
ed the  charms  of  beneficence,  and  his  prac- 
tice evinced  that  he  wrote  from  the  heart.' 

'  That  was  well  said  of  him  and  his  poems, 
but  does  he  give  any  instance  of  his  generos- 
ity ?' 

'He  was,'  continued  Rosamond,  'in  his 
time,  as  famous  for  beneficence  as  the  far-fa- 
med Aboulcasem.  It  was  common  in  the 
East,  when  any  person  did  a  generous  action, 
to  say  '  he  was  as  generous  as  Hatem.'  One 
of  the  anecdotes  that  he  tells  in  proof  of  his 
generosity  is  this  : 


ROSAMOND. 


191 


1  The  Emperor  of  Constantinople,  having 
neard  much  of  Hatem's  liberality,  resolved  to 
make  trial  of  it ;  for  this  purpose  he  despatch- 
ed a  person  from  his  court,  to  request  a  par- 
ticular horse,  which  he  knew  the  Arabian 
prince  valued  above  all  his  other  possessions. 
The  officer  arrived  at  Hatem's  abode  in  a 
dark  tempestuous  night,  at  a  season  when  all 
the  horses  were  at  pasture  in  the  meadows. 
He  was  received  in  a  manner  suitable  to  the 
dignity  of  the  imperial  envoy,  and  treated 
that  night  with  the  utmost  hospitality.  The 
next  day  the  officer  delivered  to  Hatem  his 
message  from  the  emperor.  Hatem  seemed 
concerned.  'If,'  said  he,  'you  had  yesterday 
apprized  me  of  your  errand,  I  should  instant- 


192  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ly  have  complied  with  the  emperor's  request : 
but  the  horse  he  asks  is  now  no  more.  Be- 
ing surprised  by  your  sudden  arrival,and  hav- 
ing nothing  else  to  regale  you  with,  I  ordered 
him  to  be  killed  and  served  up  to  you  last 
night  for  supper.'  Hatem  immediately  order- 
ed, that  the  finest  horses  he  had  yet  remain- 
ing should  be  brought,  and  begged  the  am- 
bassador to  present  them  to  his  master.  The 
emperor,  as  the  history  says,  could  not  but 
admire  this  mark  of  Hatem's  generosity ;  and 
owned,  that  he  truly  merited  the  title  of  the 
most  liberal  among  men.' 

Notwithstanding  her  wish  to  agree  with 
Rosamond  in  admiring  Hatem's  generosity, 
Mrs.  Egerton  could  not  help  regretting  the 
killing  and  eating  of  the  fine  horse. 

Rosamond  was  averse  to  the  eating  ;  but 
thought  the  killing  grand.  In  favor  of  the 
eating  too,  it  was  to  be  observed,  that  the  A- 
rabians  prefer  the  flesh  of  horses  to  any  other 
food.  But  even  so,  why  should  the  ambas- 
sador be  regaled  with  this  most  valuable  of 
horses,  which  was  so  desired  too  by  the  em- 
peror? Could  not  this  ambassador  have  wait- 
ed for  his  supper,  while  some  of  the  other 
horses  were  brought  in  from  the  meadows  ? 

It  is  not  fair,  Mrs.  Egerton  allowed,  to  try 
Arabic  actions  by  English  laws;  and  she  was 
willing  to  allow,  that  ihis  instance  of  Hatem's 
liberality  is  curious,  as  a  picture  of  Arabian 
manners  ;  but  as  to  the  positive  merit  of  the 
generosity,  she  thought  that  was  questionable. 


ROSAMOND.  193 

This  involved  discussions  on  many  other 
points ;  for  instance,  whether  the  merit  of 
generosity  depends  on  the  pain  it  costs,  or  the 
pleasure  it  bestows  j  whether  its  merit  de- 
pends on  the  greatness  of  the  sacrifice,  or  on 
its  utility  ;  whether  it  be  true  that  our  vir- 
tues all  depend  on  sacrifices  of  some  of  our 
selfish  feelings ;  or  whether  it  be  true  only, 
that  some  of  our  virtues  cannot  be  practised, 
without  requiring  some  such  sacrifices.  Wide 
and  deep  subjects  of  thought  were  displayed 
to  Rosamond's  inquiring  mind  ;  her  friend 
just  opened  them,  and  left  them  there. 

Meanwhile  they  had  gone  three  miles  on 
the  beaten  road,  and  then  had  turned  into  the 
forest  ;  and  Rosamond,  wakening  to  external 
objects,  found  that  she  was  in  a  pleasant 
glade  in  the  wood,  within  view  of  a  cottage, 
not  that  cottage  in  which  she  had  formerly 
seen  the  paralytic  woman.  This  was  in  an- 
other part  of  the  forest,  and  in  a  less  pictur- 
esque situation  perhaps  ;  but  it  was  a  more 
comfortable  looking  dwelling,  well  thatched, 
well  glazed,  and  in  neat  repair.  They  got 
out  of  their  carriage,  and  walked  to  the  cot- 
tage. A  man  who  was  at  work  in  the  gar- 
den threw  down  his  spade,  and  came  to  meet 
them.  Mrs.  Egerton  asked  this  man,  an  hon- 
est-faced, good-natured  looking  farmer,  wheth- 
er he  and  his  wife  were  satisfied  with  their  bar- 
gain,and  their  new  lodgers  1  c  Quite  satisfied,' 
the  man  answered;  '  and  that  all  was  going  on, 
and  likely  to  go  on  well.'  vol.  ii.     17 


194 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


It  was  here  that  Mrs  Egerton  had  settled 
the  paralytic  woman,  and  the  grateful  girl. 
The  mistress  of  this  house,  who  next  appear- 
ed at  the  door,  was,  as  her  countenance  be- 
-spoke  her,  and  as  her  husband  called  her,  as 
good-tempered,  kind-hearted  a  soul  as  ever 
breathed  ;  as  active  and  as  notable  a  dame, 
moreover,  as  the  scolding  hostess.  This  far- 
mer and  his  wife  were  tenants  of  Dr. Egerton, 
so  that  Mrs.  Egerton  was  well  acquainted 
with  their  conduct  and  with  all  their  affairs. 

They  had,  she  knew,  been  kind  to  a  servant 
girl,  who  had  lived  with  them  several  years, 
and  who  was  just  married,  and  who  had  left 
them  with  their  good-will,  though  much  to 
their  inconvenience.  From  this  experience 
of  their  kind  conduct  (the  only  safe  test)  Mrs 


ROSAMOND. 


lt)5 


Egerton  formed  her  expectations,  that  they 
would  behave  well  to  those  whom  she  placed 
under  their  protection.  And  she  took  great 
care,  in  making  the  agreement  and  arrange- 
ments, that  all  should  be  for  the  reciprocal 
advantage  of  the  parties  concerned,  and  that 
all  should  be  perfectly  well  understood. 

The  farmer's  wife  was  often  obliged  to  be 
absent  from  home,  at  market,  and  wanted  a 
servant  she  could  trust  with  her  children  ;  the 
grateful  girl  was  just  such  a  one  as  she  need- 
ed. The  paralytic  woman,  having  still  the 
use  of  her  hands  and  her  head,  could  be  use- 
ful also  to  the  children,  because  she  had  a  lit- 
tle learning  ;  just  as  much  as  was  not  a  dan- 
gerous thing  for  poor  children.  She  could 
teach  them  to  read  and  write,  and  a  little  a- 
rithmetic;  and  she  could  teach  the  girls  to 
sew  and  to  knit,  and,  as  she  said,  even  the 
very  thought  that  she  could  do  something  still, 
and  that  she  could  be  in  any  way  useful  to 
those  that  took  charge  of  her,  was  a  great 
ease  to  her  mind,  in  her  state ;  sad  state  she 
no  longer  called  it.  Rosamond  now  saw  her 
in  a  light,  neat,  comfortable  room,  and  a  bed 
with  sheets  as  white  as  snow  ;  and  there  she 
was  sitting  with  the  children  round  her,  one 
knitting,  or  learning  to  knit,  and  another 
reading  to  her. 

The  grateful  girl,  though  she  still  looked  as 
if  \\pa  health  required  care,  had  no  longer  that 
hectic  flush  and  overworked  appearance,  nor 
the  expression  of  anxiety  on  her  countenance, 


196 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


1 


which  had  marked  the  depression  on  her 
mind.  She  looked  the  picture,  the  reality  of 
happiness. 

'  And  O,  madam  Egerton  !  "best  of  all !'  said 
she,  '  thanks  to  you,  for  settling  that  I  was 
to  pay  for  the  room  for  her.  Little  as  it  is, 
what  a  pleasure  it  is  to  me  to  be  still  earning 
it  for  her.' 

Mrs.  Egerton  had  taken  particular  care  that 
this  girl  should  still  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of 
providing  for  the  paralytic  woman,  for  whom 
she  had  so  long  worked  witli  such  grateful 
perseverance.  It  would  have  been  easy  to 
have  paid  for  the  lodging,  but  this  would  have 
been  less  real  kindness  than   permitting  her 


ROSAMOND.  197 

still  to  feel  that  she  exercised  to  good  purpose 
her  kind  affections  ;  on  which  kind  affec- 
tions, whether  in  health  or  sickness,  riches  or 
poverty,  whether  in  the  highest  or  lowest 
stations  of  life,  so  large  a  portion  of  the  hap- 
piness of  human  creatures  depends. 

Rosamond  observed,  that  by  judicious  ar- 
rangements much  had  been  done  for  these 
poor  people,  without  Mrs.  Egerton's  having 
given  them,  or  having  laid  out  much  money ; 
and  she  began  to  think,  that  it  would  be  pos- 
sible for  her  to  do  good,  without  possessing 
the  wealth  of  Hatem,  of  Aboulcasem,  or  of 
the  Polish  Countess. 

The  walking  party  staid  for  Mrs.  Egerton 
at  the  white  gate,  as  appointed  ;  a  degree  of 
punctuality  worth  recording,  because  it  is  of 
rare  occurrence.  Rosamond  however,  instead 
of  walking,  as  had  been  proposed,  chose  to  go 
home  in  the  garden  chair  with  Mrs.  Egerton, 
that  she  might  talk  to  her,  her  thoughts  being 
still  intent  upon  all  they  had  seen  in  the  cot- 
tage, and  especially  on  the  happiness  of  the 
grateful  girl. 

'  She  is  much  happier  than  if  she  was  rich,' 
said  Rosamond.  '  I  think  the  poor  have  in- 
finitely greater  opportunities  of  showing  one 
another  affection,  and  kindness,  and  gratitude, 
than  the  rich  can  ever  have.  Consider  what 
sacrifices  they  make  every  day  to  each  other, 
even  of  the  necessaries  of  life.  Our  sacrifices 
are  nothing  to  these  ;  when  we  leave  the  fin- 
est peach  for  our  neighbor,  as  you  did  yester- 


198 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


day,'  said  Rosamond  smiling,  '  that  may  be 
very  polite,  but  there  is  no  great  generosity  in 
such  things.' 

'  Very  true,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton. 

c  Then  as  to  gratitude,  it  often  happens, 
that  the  persons  to  whom  one  feels  the  most 
obliged  are  in  a  situation  of  life  where  one 
can  do  nothing  for  them.' 

'  There  I  differ  from  you,  my  dear.' 

'  Why,  my  dear  ma'am,  for  instance,  what 
can  I  do  for  you  V 

1  Have  you  forgotten,  (I  can  never  forget,) 
all  the  kindness  you  showed  me  when  I  was 
ill  in  London?'  replied  Mrs.  Egerton;  'and  I 
know  the  whole  of  the  Nine  Days'  Trial? 

1  How  could  you  know  about  that  ]  God- 
frey must  have  told  it  you.  That  is  just  like 
him,  and  I  love  him  the  better  for  it  ;  I  don't 
mean  for  telling  it  to  praise  me,  but — ' 

'  I  understand  you  perfectly,'  said  Mrs.  E. 

'  But  to  return  to  what  we  were  talking  of,' 
said  Rosamond.  '  These  are  such  little  proofs 
of  affection,  such  insignificant  proofs  of  grat- 
itude, compared  with  what  the  poor  can  and 
io  show  each  other.' 

'  My  dear  Rosamond,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton, 
'  though  in  our  rank  of  life  we  are  not  often 
called  upon  to  sacrifice  the  necessaries,  or  ev- 
en the  luxuries  of  life,  to  prove  our  gratitude; 
yet  we  are  often  called  upon  for  sacrifices  of 
our  humors,  our  time,  our  pleasures,  our  self- 
ish interests,  in  many  ways;  so  that  altogeth- 
er, though  the   trials  may  be  very  different, 


ROSAMOND.  199 

yet  they  are  full  as  constant  and  as  great. 
For  instance,  I  know  in  this  neighborhood  a 
young  lady  of  about  Laura's  age,  who — ' 

Mrs.  E.  stopped,  and  seemed  considering. 

'  Well,  my  dear  Mrs.  Egerton,  pray  go  on. 
You  know  a  young  lady  in  this  neighborhood 
about  Laura's  age.  What  is  her  name?  Did 
I  ever  see  her  1    Shall  I  ever  see  her  V 

1  Her  name  is  Louisa  Dudtey.  You  have 
never  seen  her  ;  but  I  think  perhaps  you  may 
see  her  ;  and  I  was  considering  how  we  could 
manage  it.' 

'  Thank  you,  thank  you,  ma'am.  I  recol- 
lect hearing  the  name  before.  Miss  Dudley  ! 
Louisa  Dudley  !  I  remember  now,  that  was 
the  name  I  heard  you  and  Mrs.  Harte,  and 
all  those  young  ladies,  repeat  so  often  on  the 
night  of  the  ball — Louisa  Dudley,  whom  they 
all  wished  so  much  had  been  there  ;  and 
something  was  said  about  the  reason  why  she 
could  not  come  ;  something  about  the  odd 
tempers  of  the  people  she  is  with.  Will  you 
tell  me  all  about  it,  my  dear  ma'am  V. 

Mrs.  Egerton  smiled,  and  answered,  that 
now  she  had  excited  her  curiosity  she  would 
not  tell  her  more  ;  but  that  she  should  either 
see  or  hear  more  in  a  few  days.  '  And  now,' 
added  Mrs.  Egerton,  '  to  prevent  your  curi- 
osity from  preying  upon  you,  amuse  yourself 
and  me,  my  dear,  by  repeating  those  lines  of 
Hatem's.' 


200  EARLY    LESSONS. 


MORNING  VISITS. 


'  Morning  visits  !  This  whole  morning  to 
be  sacrificed  to  the  returning  of  those  visits  !' 
said  Rosamond.  '  This  finest  of  days,  which 
I  had  laid  out  for  finishing  my  view  of  the 
Abbey  !     How  I  hate  morning  visits  !' 

'  I  do  not  love  it  more  than  you  do,  my 
dear,'  said  her  mother  ;  l  and  I  wish  that  the 
custom  were  laid  aside  ;  but  in  living  in  soci- 
ety, there  are  many  little  sacrifices  we  must 
make  to  civility.' 

'  Yes,  I  know  that  you,  mother,  must  re- 
turn the  visits  of  all  those  people  who  called 
upon  you  ;  but  why  must  I  go  V 

'  Don't  you  recollect,  my  dear,  that  Mrs. 
Egerton  said,  she  particularly  wished  you 
should  go  V 

1  Has  she  any  particular  reason,  I  wonder?' 

'  Is  not  her  wish  reason  sufficient,  without 
further  question  ?' 

'  Certainly,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  I  am  willing 
to  do  any  thing  she  wishes  ;  only ' 

'  Only — you  are  not  willing  ;  is  that  what 
you  mean  to  say,  my  dear  V 

1  No,  no,  mother,  I  was  only  thinking  that 
I  could  go  out  first,  and  just  finish  my  view 
of  the  cloisters,  while  the  lights  and  shades 
are  on  them  so  beautifully.' 

1  But  if  you  go  out  now,  Rosamond,  you 


ROSAMOND.  201 

will  not  be  ready  when  the  carriage  comes  to 
the  door ;  and  yon  know,  Mrs.  Egerton  re- 
quested that  we  should  set  out  early  V 

Rosamond  cast  a  lingering  look  out  of  the 
window,  and,  still  adhering  to  her  portfolio 
and  walking  very  slowly  towards  the  door, 
said,  'must  I  then  give  up  the  whole  morning?' 

'  I  have  heard  a  proverb,'  said  her  father, 
looking  up  from  the  paper  he  was  reading, 
'  a  latin  proverb,  which  says,  Who  gives 
promptly  gives  twice.  This  applies  to  the 
gift  of  time,  as  well  as  to  all  other  gifts.  And 
I  should  add,  Who  complies  readily  complies 
in  the  only  manner  in  which  I  would  accept 
of  their  compliance,  either  in  a  matter  of  con- 
sequence or  a  trifle.' 

Rosamond  stood  abashed.  All  thoughts  of 
the  cloisters  were  promptly  given  up.  She 
vanished,  and  re-appeared  in  a  few  minutes, 
ready  to  set  out,  even  before  the  carriage 
came  to  the  door. 

The  round  of  necessary  but  tiresome  visits 
was  duly  paid,  according  to  the  list  which 
Rosamond's  mother  held  in  her  hand  ;  and 
when  they  came  to  the  last  on  the  list,  and 
when  the  joyful  words  Not  at  home  had  been 
heard,  and  the  cards,  with  corners  duly  dog's- 
eared,  had  been  delivered,  Rosamond  ex- 
claimed,  '"  Home  ;  is  not  it,  Mrs.  Egerton  V 

1  No  ;  there  is  one  other  visit  to  be  paid, 
and  six  miles  off,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton. 

Rosamond's  face  lengthened,  but  shortened 


202  EARLY    LESSONS. 

again  the  next  instant,  when  Mrs.  Egerton 
added,   l  To  Dudley  Manor.' 

'  Dudley  Manor  !'  exclaimed  Rosamond. 
'Now  I  know  why  you  wished  me  to  accom- 
pany you,  dear  Mrs.  Egerton.  I  may  always 
trust  to  your  intending  some  kindness,  even 
when  you  ask  me  to  do  what  I  don't  like. — 
Now  I  shall  see  that  Louisa  Dudley,  whom 
every  body  wished  for  so  much  at.  the  ball. 
And  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Egerton,  will  you  go 
on  with  what  you  were  going  to  tell  me  of 
her  the  other  day.  You  stopt  short/,  if  you 
recollect,  just  after  you  told  me  that  she  is  a- 
bout  Laura's  age.  Is  she  like  Laura  I  Pray 
describe  her.' 

'  You  will  see  her  so  soon,  my  dear,'  an- 
swered Mrs.  E.  '  that  I  may  spare  the  descrip- 
tion of  eyes,  nose,  mouth  and  chin;  especially 
as  all  these,  when  most  minutely  described, 
seldom  give  any  idea  of  a  countenance.' 

'But  is  she  like  Laura  in  disposition,  cha- 
racter, manners,  temper  V 

1  As  to  temper — to  answer  one  question  at 
at  a  time' — said  Mrs.  Egerton,  '  I  cannot  tell, 
whether  your  sister's  temper  is  as  good  as 
her's.  True,  my  dear,  notwithstanding  your 
look  of  incredulity.  I  do  not  know,  I  assure 
you,  because  I  have  never  seen  Laura's  tem- 
per put  to  such  trials  as  I  have  seen  miss 
Dudley's,  and  I  hope  I  never  may.' 

'  What  sort  of  trials  V  said  Rosamond. 
'  Pray  tell  me  some  of  them.' 

'  Impossible  to  tell  them  to  you,  they  are 


ROSAMOND.  203 

such  petty  things ;  they  must  be  seen  and  felt 
to  be  understood.' 

1  But  if  they  are  such  little  things,  surely 
they  might  be  easily  borne.' 

'  No  ;  little  torments,  continually  reiterat- 
ed, are,  it  is  found,  the  most  difficult  of  all 
others  to  endure.' 

'  Are  the  people  she  lives  with  fond  of  her?' 

'  Yes,  very  fond  of  her.' 

'  Then  I  do  not  pity  her.  I  could  bear  any 
thing  from  people  who  are  fond  of  me.' 

(  Stay  till  you  try,  my  dear  Rosamond,' 
said  her  mother. 

1  Stay  till  you  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dudley,' 
said  Mrs.  Egerton. 

'  What  sort  of  persons  are  they  V 

£  Excellent  people,  with  good  hearts,  good 
heads,  good  name,  good  fortune.' 

1  O,  I  don't  pity  her  !'  cried  Rosamond. 

1  Good  fortune,  did  I  say  ?  I  should  have 
said  more  than  good — great  fortune  ;  they 
have,  in  short,  every  thing  this  world  can  af- 
ford to  make  them  happy  :  steeped  up  to  the 
lips  in  luxury.' 

'  They  are  what  are  called  hyp-o-chon-dri- 
a-cal  then,  I  suppose  V  said  Rosamond. 

1  Mental  hyp-o-chon-dri-a-cism,  perhaps,  it 
may  be  called,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton  ;  '  they  do 
not  imagine  themselves  ill,  but  they  imagine 
themselves  unhappy.  The  fact  is,  they  want 
nothing  in  this  world  but  temper.' 

1  That  is  a  sad  want  indeed  !  but  still — ' 

1  But  still,'  repeated  Mrs.  Egerton   smiling, 


204 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


1  you  have  never  felt  it,  you  cannot  conceive 
the  misery.' 

*  Yes,  I  can  conceive  it,'  said  Rosamond  ; 
'  but  still,  if  they  are  fond  of  one  another — ' 

'  They  married  for  love,'  said  Mrs.  Egerton, 
'  and  for  aught  I  know  they  maybe,  as  many 
people  say,  very  fond  of  each  other,  in  the 
main,  to  this  day  ;  but  their  love  has  all  the 
effects  of  hate,  for  they  make  one  another  as 
unhappy  as  the  bitterest  enemies  chained  to- 
gether could  do.  Their  lives  are,  every  day 
and  all  day  long,  one  scene  of  petty  contra- 
diction, opposition,  dispute,  taunt,  and  reply. 
They  were  originally  high-bred  persons  ;  but 
their  tempers  have  so  far  got  the  better,  or  the 
worse,  of  them,  that  they  quite  forget  domes- 
tic politeness ;  and  though  they  are  well-bred 
to  all  the  world  beside,  are  really  ill-bred  to 
one  another.' 

c  And  does  this  appear  before  company  too  V 
said  Rosamond.  '  And  cannot  Louisa  Dud- 
ley, if  they  are  so  fond  of  her,  do  any  thing 
to  make  affairs  go  on  better  V 

'  She  does  every  thing  that  is  possible,  but 
all  in  vain.  She  cannot  please  one  without 
displeasing  the  other ;  and  their  very  fondness 
for  her  proves  a  new  source  of  jealousy,  and 
if  not  of  open  altercation,  of  secret  taunt. 
She  gives  up  her  amusements,  her  occupa- 
tions, her  will,  her  whole  time,  her  liberty,  to 
them,  and  yet  she  can  never  succeed  in  mak- 
ing them  satisfied  with  her,  or  happy  them- 
selves, for  one  day,  one  hour.' 


ROSAMOND.  205 

(  What  a  misfortune  to  have  such  a  father 
and  mother  !'  said  Rosamond. 

'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dudley  are  not  her  father 
and  mother,'  replied  Mrs.  Egerton  ;  '  they  are 
only  distant  relations  to  her.' 

'  Then  why  does  she  live  with  them,  if  she 
is  not  bound  by  duty  V 

'  She  is  bound  to  them,  or  she  thinks  her- 
self bound  to  them,  by  gratitude,'  said  Mrs. 
Egerton.  '  They  conferred  some  important 
obligation,  of  what  nature  I  do  not  know,  on 
Louisa  Dudley,  when  she  was  a  child,  or  up- 
on her  parents.  As  to  the  rest,  she  is  quite 
independent  ;  she  will  have  a  very  consider- 
able fortune ;  her  guardians  are  people  of 
fashion,  who  live  in  what  are  called  the  first 
circles,  and  with  whom  she  might  reside  if 
she  pleased  ;  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dudley  are 
anxious  to  have  her  with  them,  and  to  them 
she  devotes  herself  in  the  manner  you  will  see. 

'  And,  after  all  that  Louisa  does  to  prove  her 
gratitude  and  affection,  there  is  always  some 
further  petty  proof  required,  c  a  cruel  some- 
thing.' For  instance,  they  are  jealous  of  her 
regard  for  the  good  Mrs.  Harte,  by  whom  she 
was  educated.  It  was  this  jealousy  and  some 
affront  about  Mrs.  Harte' s  visiting  or  being 
visited,  which  put  them  out  of  temper,  and 
which  at  last  prevented  poor  Louisa  from  com- 
ing to  our  ball.  I  am  now  going  to  make  a 
propitiatory  visit,  in  hopes  of  prevailing  upon 
Mrs.  Dudley  to  come,  or  let  Louisa  come  to 
Egerton  Abbey  for  a  few  days,  while  you  are 


206 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


with  ns  ;  I  know  that  this  would  be  such  a 
pleasure  to  her.  And  now  that  I  have  told 
you  this  much,  it  is  but  fair  to  my  friend 
Louisa  to  assure  you,  that  not  the  slightest 
word  of  complaint  ever  came  to  me  from  her. 
On  the  contrary,  she  is  continually  and  zeal- 
ously intent  upon  veiling  all  defects,  and  tur- 
ning every  thing  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dudley  say 
and  do  to  the  best  advantage.  She  treats 
them  with  such  respect,  and  her  attachment 
to  them  is  so  sincere  and  determined,  that  I 
am  convinced  not  one  of  her  most  intimate 
friends,  young  or  old,  have  ever  ventured  to 
speak  to  her,  or  before  her,  of  any  of  Mr.  or 


ROSAMOND.  207 

Mrs.  Dudley's  disagreements,  or  of  her  own 
suffering  from  their  faults.' 

1  That  is  right,  that  is  excellent,'  said  Ro- 
samond. 

When  they  drove  up  to  the  house  at  Dud- 
ley Manor,  Rosamond  exclaimed,  '  A  beauti- 
ful place  !  an  admirable  house  !  Italian  front, 
conservatory,  trellice  !  How  happy  people 
might  be  here  !' 

If  the  length,  breadth,  or  height  of  a  room 
could  secure  happiness,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dudley's 
felicity  would  have  been  perfect  ;  but  all 
thoughts  of  their  being  happy  was  given  up, 
when  their  discontented  faces  and  care-worn 
figures  appeared  entering  at  opposite  doors. 
Their  manners  to  their  guests,  to  strangers 
particularly,  were  so  polite,  their  conversation 
so  pleasing,  that  for  the  first  quarter  of  an 
hour  Rosamond,  deceived  by  the  charm  of 
good  breeding,  disbelieved  or  forgot  all  that 
she  had  heard  of  their  discontented  dis- 
positions. It  was  plain,  that  some  grief  sat 
heavy  at  heart  ;  but  that  their  unhappiness 
could  arise  from  faults  of  temper,  the  sweet 
smiles  of  the  lady,  and  the  softened  voice  of 
the  gentleman,  forbade  her  to  think.  When 
miss  Dudley  was  asked  for,  a  cloud  over  the 
lady's  brow  however  appeared,  and  a  cold- 
ness and  constraint  towards  Mrs.  Egerton,  but 
to  every  body  else  in  the  room,  she  was  more 
particularly  charming  than  before. 

Louisa  came  in  fresh  from  a  walk,  with 
heightened  colour,  and  with  a  countenance  of 


208  EARLY   LESSONS. 

cheerfulness  and  affection,  which  Rosamond 
thought  must  set  all  to  rights.  For  some  little 
time  longer  the  conversation  kept  on  smooth- 
ly skating  over  the  ice  of  ceremony,  which 
had  not  yet  been  broken.  It  is  happy  in  these 
cases,  when  strangers  know  nothing  of  the 
dangers  beneath. 

Presently  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
dance  at  Egerton  Abbey.  Mrs.  Dudley  piti- 
ed Rosamond  very  much,  as  she  said, for  hav- 
ing been  confined  to  a  sofa  all  night. 

Rosamond  was  going  to  answer,  that  she 
had  been  that  evening  happier  than  if  she  had 
been  dancing ;  but  afraid  to  mention  Mrs. 
Harte,  whose  conversation  had  so  much  in- 
terested her,  she  gave  but  a  bungling  account 
of  her  happiness,  and  left  it  to  her  mother 
and  Mrs.  Egerton  to  finish  her  sentences. 
But  even  Mrs.  Egerton  could  not  give  satisfac- 
tion in  speaking  of  Mrs.  Harte  and  the  ball. 

Much  indeed  was  said  by  Mrs.  Dudley  in 
praise  of  Mrs.Harte,  and  much  was  said  of 
Mrs. Dudley's  concern  that  Louisa  had  missed 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  person  to  whom 
she  was  so  warmly  attached,  but  her  altered 
and  constrained  voice  and  manner  betrayed 
her  dissatisfaction.  Even  poor  Louisa,  who 
had  given  up  the  ball,  and  the  company  of 
her  friend  Mrs.  Harte,  did  not  seem  to  have 
succeeded  in  pleasing. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  Mr.Dudley  ut- 
tered (sotto  voce)  as  Rosamond,  who  sat  near 
him,  heard,  many  sighs  and  pshaws.    But  he 


ROSAMOND.  209 

was  evidently  in  cordial  good  humor  with 
Louisa.  He  observed  to  Rosamond,  that  his 
Louisa  had  the  sweetest  temper  in  the  world  ; 
that  the  celebrated  Serena  was  nothing  to 
her  ;  but  he  rejoiced,  he  significantly  said,  that 
he  was  not  the  old  father  in  the  gout,  whose 
humors  always  crossed  the  heroine's  pleas- 
ures. The  compressed  lips  and  cleared  throat 
of  Mrs.  Dudley  were  now  signs,  that  all  was 
going  wrong  with  her. 

Rosamond  made  an  attempt  to  turn  the 
conversation  to  a  harmless  course,  by  asking 
some  question  about  the  manner  in  which  the 
windows  were  fastened. 

1  They  are  French  windows,  with  espag- 
nolettes    said  Mrs.  Dudley. 

Immediately  stepping  forward,  with  a  de- 
lighted and  delightful  smile,  she  opened  and 
shut  the  window,  to  show  Rosamond  bow  ea- 
sily these  long  bolts  fastened  both  sides  of  the 
the  window  at  once.  Rosamond  was  delight- 
ed with  them,  and  with  herself,  for  having 
given  this  happy  turn  to  the  conversation  ;  for 
now,  and  for  the  first  time  for  many  minutes, 
the  lady  looked  really  pleased  ;  but,  turning 
her  eyes  upon  Mr.  Dudley,  who  stood  silent, 
Rosamond  saw  that  he  was  quite  discomfited, 
and  in  Louisa's  face  there  was  a  look  of  re- 
pressed apprehension.  There  is  no  knowing, 
thought  Rosamond,  what  may  prove  danger- 
ous subjects  with  people  who  disagree. 

The  manner  of  opening  and  shutting  these 

VOL.  II.      18 


210 


EARLY    LESSON'S. 


windows  happened  to  have  been  a  subject  of 
daily  altercation  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dud- 
ley. She  had  always  patronized,  he  had  al- 
ways detested,  them  ;  and  every  stranger 
was  subject  to  being  asked  their  opinion,  and 
could  never  escape  giving  offence  one  way  or 
the  other.  Mr.  Dudley  began  by  observing, 
in  a  disdainful  manner,  that  such  things  were 
vastly  well  in  summer,  and  in  a  warm  cli- 
mate, but  that  he  owned  he  did  not  like  mere 
summer  friends  ;  he  was  '  too  English,  he 
confessed,  for  that?  he  liked  well-fitted,  well- 
pullied  English  windows.  Now  Mrs.  Dudley 
liked  every  thing  that  was  French.  Here  o- 
pened  a  wide  field  of  battle,  each  party  bring- 


ROSAMOND.  211 

ing  all  the  forces  of  their  understanding,  and 
knowledge  of  all  sorts,  (and  very  considera- 
ble forces  they  were)  in  support,  not  of  rea- 
son but  of  opposite  prejudices,  and  in  the  spi- 
rit of  contradiction. 

Mrs.  Egerton  endeavored  to  commence,  and 
Rosamond's  mother  supported  the  praises  of 
an  excellent  Edinburgh  Review,  which  had 
then  just  appeared,  on  the  comparative  merits 
of  French  and  English  inventions  and  indus- 
try. The  new  and  curious  facts  mentioned 
delighted  Louisa  ;  and,  for  a  time,  the  new 
interest  excited  by  the  question  of  who  the 
author  of  that  review  might  be,  suspended 
the  window  debate.  But  the  truce  was  of 
short  continuance, and  hostilities  recommenced 
with  renewed  vigor.  New  materials  supplied 
fresh  fuel  to  the  flame.  From  industry,  arts, 
and  sciences,  they  soon  proceeded  to  manners, 
morals,  politics,  French  and  English. 

The  gentleman  and  lady  to  be  sure  dealt 
only  in  general  assertions,  but  the  particular 
applications  were  too  obvious.  The  implica- 
tions and  inuendoes  became  shockingly  clear 
and  frequent,  till  the  husband  and  wife  no 
longer  talked  to,  but  at  each  other,  and  soon  it 
came  to  '  all  the  cruel  language  of  the  eye.' 

Rosamond,  quite  abashed,  scarcely  dared 
to  look  at  any  body.  From  time  to  time, 
however,  she  saw  Louisa's  varying  colour, 
which  betrayed  how  much  she  felt  while  this 
sort  of  conversation  went  on,  and  when  fre- 
quent appeals  in  the  course  of  it  were  made 


212  EARLY    LESSONS. 

to  her  testimony,  her  taste,  or  opinion.  She 
however  preserved  her  presence  of  mind,  and 
answering  always  only  as  much  as  truth, 
and  as  little  as  kindness  required,  her  respect 
for  both  recalling  each  to  respect  for  the  oth- 
er, her  genuine  affection  conciliated  both,  and 
continually  softened  and  covered  all  that  was 
wrong ;  so  that,  as  Rosamond  described  it  af- 
terwards, the  company  felt  themselves  bound, 
under  pain  of  hurting  her  feelings,  not  to  see, 
hear,  or  understand,  that  any  thing  unbecom- 
ing or  disagreeable  had  passed. 

A  collation,  well  deserving  the  epithet  the 
newspaper  writers  so  often  bestow,  an  elegant 
collation,  now  appeared,  and,  gathering  round 
the  table,  all  clouds  seemed  to  have  cleared 
up  and  passed  off,  in  a  wonderful  way  ;  and 
Rosamond  could  scarcely  believe  that  her 
host  and  hostess,  now  most  politely  doing  the 
honors  to  their  guests,  in  the  most  perfect  u- 
nison,  and  in  good  humor,  or  semblance  of 
good  humor,  were  the  persons  between  whom, 
but  a  few  minutes  before,  she  had  heard  such 
'  bitter  taunt  and  keen  reply.'  '  Well,'  tho't 
she,  '  perhaps,  as  Mrs.  Egerton  said,  for  aught 
I  know,  these  people  love  each  other  after  all.' 

Disenchanted  from  the  constraint  that  had 
seized  upon  her,  Rosamond  became  quite  at 
ease  and  happy,  especially  when  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton, seizing  the  propitious  moment,  apologized 
successfully  to  Mrs.  Dudley,  for  some  affront 
about  a  visit;  and  she  and  Mr.  Dudley  joined 
in  polite  expressions  of  regard  for  the  Eger- 


ROSAMOND.  213 

ton  family,  regrets  that  their  intercourse  was 
not  more  frequent,  and  ended  with  a  most 
cordial  and  pressing  in  treaty,  that  they  would 
fix  a  day  for  doing  them  the  pleasure  and 
honor  of  dining  at  Dudley  Manor.  As  this 
was  almost  the  only  point  on  which  the  hus- 
band and  wife  had  agreed,  and  as  they  evi- 
dently did  coalesce  in  this  wish,  good  Mrs. 
Egerton  was  tempted  to  comply  the  more  rea- 
dily, because  her  compliance  would  give  Lou- 
isa satisfaction.  All  was  now  upon  velvet  ; 
and  even  the  ball  and  Mrs.  Harte  were  men- 
tioned, by  Mrs.  Dudley,  with  complacency. 

Encouraged  by  Mrs.  Dudley's  smiles  and 
readiness  to  enter  into  the  subject,  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton now  ventured  to  make  her  petition,  '  that 
she  might  have  the  pleasure  of  Louisa's  com- 
pany for  one  day  during  the  time  which  Ro- 
samond and  all  her  friends  were  to  stay  at 
Egerton  Abbey.' 

Mr.  D.  instantly  acceded.  '  By  all  means — 
by  all  means,  since  you  are  so  good  as  to  give 
us  a  day  especially  ;  and  I  know  it  is  the 
thing  of  all  others  that  Louisa  wishes.' 

Louisa  did  not  deny  it,  but,  coloring,  look- 
ed timidly  towards  Mrs.  Dudley. 

1  Pray,  Louisa — pray,  miss  Dudley,  do 
whatever  you  wish  ;  do  not,  I  beg,  let  me  be 
any  restraint  upon  you,'  said  Mrs.D.  '  If  your 
look  means  to  look  to  me  for  consent,  do  me 
the  justice  to  believe  that  you  are  quite  at  lib- 
erty.    What  objection  can  I  possibly  make  V 

Truly  Louisa  did  not  know  ;  but  though  the 


214  EARLY    LESSONS. 

words  were  added,  7"  am  sure  I  make  no  objec- 
tion, yet  the  words  and  the  tone  and  the  eyes 
did  not  accord.  Even  Rosamond,  who  had 
scarcely  learnt  the  language  of  Mrs.  Dudley's 
countenance,  could  read  this' much  ;  and  Lou- 
isa knew  that  she  must  give  up  her  own 
wishes,  or  that  all  would  be  wrong  again. 
She  therefore  declined  Mrs.  Egerton's  invita- 
tion, without  saying  any  thing  that  was  un- 
true, and  without  appearing  to  make  any  sa- 
crifice. In  fact,  she  did,  as  she  said,  what, 
upon  the  whole,  was  most  agreeable  to  her, 
for  it  was  most  agreeable  to  her  to  give  up 
any  gratification  of  her  own,  to  satisfy  friends 
to  whom  she  felt  herself  obliged. 

But  after  all  they  were  not  satisfied,  for  she 
heard  Mr.  Dudley,  in  his  soliloquy  voice,  say- 
ing to  himself,  l  in  my  opinion  Louisa  had 
much  better  go.  No  use  in  these  sacrifices  : 
nonsensical — nonsensical.  For  my  part,  I 
own  I  like  courage  and  sincerity.' 

Louisa's  hand  trembled  as  she  was  dividing 
a  bunch  of  grapes  with  Rosamond,  and  she 
could  not  cut  them  asunder.  She  did  not 
however  quarrel  even  with  the  bluntness  of 
the  grape  scissars,  she  blamed  only  her  own 
awkwardness.  The  grapes  were  some  of  the 
finest  that  ever  were  seen  ;  but  Rosamond 
eat  them  without  knowing  how  they  tasted  ; 
and  a  melting  peach  of  the  finest  flavor,  which 
Mr.  Dudley  put  on  her  plate,  might  have 
been,  what  he  scornfully  called  l  a  mere  tur- 
nip,' for  any  thing  she  knew  to  the  contrary. 


ROSAMOND.  215 

The  carriage  was  ordered,  and  Rosamond 
rejoiced  when  it  came  to  the  door.  A  few 
minutes  before  their  departure,  as  she  was 
standing  opposite  to  the  chimney  piece  with 
Louisa,  looking  at  a  beautiful  china  cup,  that 
she  had  pointed  out  to  her  as  Mrs.  Dudley's 
painting,  Mr.  D.  came  between  them,  and 
said,   l  Do  you  go  to  Egerton  Abbey  V 

1  No,  sir  !'  answered  Louisa. 

c  Pshaw  !  how  can  you  be  so  foolish  !  quite 
obstinate  !' 

Mrs.  Dudley  glided  near  Louisa,  on  the 
other  side,  and  observing  her  colour,  and  hear- 
ing no  answer  to  whatever  Mr.  Dudley  had 
suggested,  she  said,  '  Why  will  you  not  go, 
Louisa  ?  If  you  wish  to  oblige  me,  pray  go. 
Miss  Rosamond  wishes  it  so  much,  you  see, 
and  Mrs.  Egerton.  Pray  go.'  As  she  took 
the  cup  from  Louisa's  hand,  and  replaced  it 
on  the  mantlepiece,  she  added,  '  sacrifices  are 
my  detestation  ;  the  feelings  of  the  mind  are 
what  I  look  to.'  These  were  Mrs.  Dudley's 
last  words  ;  and  her  last  look  a  look  of  dis- 
satisfaction. 

Rosamond  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence 
that  prevailed,  as  they  drove  from  the  door. 
1  Goodbye,  Dudley  Manor  !'  said  she.  '  I  did 
not  think  it  possible  to  be  so  unhappy  in  so 
beautiful  a  place.  What  a  difficult,  what  a 
terrible  thing  it  must  be,  mother,  to  live  with 
two  such  people  !  to  live  with  any  people 
who  cannot  agree  !  It  is  absolutely  impossi- 
ble, as  you  said,  Mrs.  Egerton,  to  please  them 


216  EARLY    LESSONS. 

both  at  the  same  time.  But  what  an  angelic 
temper  Miss  Dudley  shows  V 

Almost  all  the  way  home  Rosamond  passed 
in  exhaling  her  indignation  against  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Dudley,  and  in  expressing  her  pity,  ad- 
miration, and  love  of  Louisa.  Yet  she  would 
not  be  Louisa  for  any  thing  upon  earth.  She 
would  rather,  she  declared,  be  the  poor  girl  in 
the  cottage,  serving  the  paralytic  woman,  and 
having  her  services  received  and  paid  by  kind 
acceptance,  good  humor,  and  affection  ;  above 
all,  by  seeing  that  she  really  made  the  happiness 
of  the  person  for  whom  she  exerted  herself. 
But  to  be  obliged  to  such  a  discontented  per- 
son asMrs.Dudley,  and  to  live  with  people  who 
disagree  eternally,  how  few  could  stand  it  '? 

'  Not  but  I  think  Laura  could,'  added  Ros- 
amond. l  But  I  am  sure  I  could  not;  I  would 
much  rather  endure  any  great  trials,  the 
greatest  that  could  be  invented  ;  there  would 
be  some  motive,  some  glory,  some  self-com- 
placency to  support  one  ;  but  these  constant 
little  torments  ! ' 

'But  these  constant  little  torments,'  said  Mrs 
Egerton,  ''are  those  to  which  we,  in  our  station 
of  life,  are  most  likely  to  be  exposed  ;  and  I  am 
very  sure  you  would  learn  to  bear  them,  my 
dear  Rosamond,  if  it  were  necessary  ;  and 
though  I  hope  you  may  never  be  in  such  a  situ- 
ation as  Louisa  Dudley,  yet  you  may  be  pretty 
sure  that,  in  the  course  of  your  life,  you  will  be 
obliged  to  submit  to  many  little  sacrifices  of 
your    tastes   and   wishes  ;    and   the   temper 


90* 
ROSAMOND.  217 

which  will  make  you  support  such  trials  is 
more  to  be  desired  than  even  the  wealth  and 
power  of  your  favorite  Polish  Countess.' 


THE  BRACELET  OF  MEMORY. 

1  Come  down  !  come  down  to  the  breakfast 
room,  my  dear  Rosamond,  this  instant,'  cried 
Godfrey.  '  Make  haste  ;  but  make  no  noise 
as  you  come  into  the  room.' 

'  Why,  what  can  the  matter  be,  brother  V 
said  Rosamond,  following  him  down  stairs  as 
fast  as  she  could. 

1  Nothing  is  the  matter,'  replied  Godfrey. — 
1  Did  I  say  anything  was  the  matter  ?  Don't 
let  your  imagination  run  away  with  you,  as 
usual ;  if  you  do,  you  will  be  disappointed, 
and  find  your  mountain  produce  nothing  but 
a  mouse.  Take  care  you  don't  tumble  down 
stairs  ;  that  is  all  you  need  be  afraid  of  at 
present.' 

1  But  pray,  Godfrey,'  said  Rosamond,  over- 
taking him  just  as  he  reached  the  room-door, 
1  do  tell  me  before  I  go  in  why  I  should  make- 
no  noise.' 

1  Hush,  hush  !  follow  me  on  tiptoe,  and  you; 
shall  see — what  you  shall  see.1 

VOL.  II.      19 


218  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Rosamond  followed  him  as  softly  as  she 
could.  She  heard  the  word  hush  !  repeated 
as  she  entered  the  room,  and  saw  that  every 
body  was  standing  round  the  breakfast  table, 
looking  at  something  attentively.  Joining 
them,  she  found  that  they  were  looking  at  a 
little  mouse,  which  stood  quite  still,  before 
some  crums  of  bread  on  the  table,  seeming  to 
be  so  much  terrified  as  to  be  incapable  of  stir- 
ring. 

1  Poor  thing  !  how  frightened  it  is  !'  whis- 
pered Rosamond.  '  Let  me  take  it  up  in  my 
hand.' 

The  traveller  drew  her  back  as  she  was  go- 
ing to  take  it  up.  Godfrey  bid  her  take  care, 
lest  it  should  bite  her,  and  Laura  begged  her 
to  stand  still,  and  watch  what  the  mouse 
would  do.  Presently  it  turned  its  little  head 
from  side  to  side,  as  mice  are  wont  to  do  when 
in  dangers  great ;  its  bright,  round,  and  not 
unthinking  eyes,  seemed  to  watch  for  an  op- 
portunity to  escape.  Hearing  no  noise,  it  ap- 
peared to  take  courage,  began  to  nibble  at  the 
crums  of  bread,  then,  setting  up  its  tail,  ran 
on  a  few  steps  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left, 
then  very  quickly  all  round  the  table,  regard- 
less of  the  spectators,  and  even  of  the  offici- 
ous Godfrey,  who  moved  every  thing  out  of 
the  way  before  it. 

But  just  as  it  was  running  past  Rosamond, 
Mrs.  Egerton's  cat,  who  had  followed  her  in- 
to the  room,  and  unperceived  had  jumped  up 
on  the   chair  behind   her,   darting  forward, 


ROSAMOND. 


219 


sprang  upon  the  mouse  and  caught  it  in  her 
mouth.  A  general  cry  was  heard,  loudest 
from  the  traveller,  who  seized  the  cat  by  the 
back  of  the  neck,  and  forcing  her  to  drop  the 
mouse  into  his  hand,  swung  her  out  of  the 
room,  and  shut  the  door. 

'Is  the  mouse  hurt?  is  it  dead?'  cried 
Rosamond,  pressing  forward  to  look  at  it. 

'  No,  it  is  safe,  it  is  safe  !'  said  the  travel- 
ler ;  '  but  this  is  the  second  time  a  cat  has 
nearly  destroyed  it.  Look  where  its  side  was 
bitten  before.' 

1  But  it  looks  as  if  it  were  dead,'  said  Ros- 
amond, going  closer  to  look  at  it,  as  the  trav- 


220  EARLY   LESSONS. 

eller  held  it  out,  stretched  on  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

'  It  is  not  alive  certainly,'  said  Godfrey. 
1  Touch  it ;  take  it  in  your  hand,  Rosamond.' 

She  touched  it,  and  exclaimed,  '  It  is  not 
alive  !  It  is  cold  !  It  is  stiff !  It  is  hard  !  It  is 
not  a  real  mouse.' 

1  O,  you  have  found  that  out  at  last  !'  said 
Godfrey,  laughing.  '  You  have  been  finely 
taken  in.' 

'  No  shame  for  her,'  said  Laura,  '  since  even 
the  best  judge  of  mice,  the  cat,  was  deceived.' 

Rosamond  begged  to  see  it  move  again. 
The  traveller  took  a  key  out  of  his  pocket, 
wound  up  some  machinery  concealed  within- 
side  of  the  mouse,  and  setting  it  upon  its  legs 
on  the  table,  it  again  moved  its  apprehensive 
head  from  side  to  side,  nibbled,  and  ran  its 
course,  to  Rosamond's  delight. 

. l  It  is  the  most  perfect  imitation  of  a  living 
animal  I  ever  saw,'  said  she. 

'  Since  you  are  so  much  pleased  with  my 
mouse,'  said  the  traveller,  '  you  shall  see  the 
whole  contents  of  my  box  of  curiosities ;  pro- 
vided that  if  I  unpack  them,  some  one  will 
undertake  to  pack  them  up  again  carefully.' 

Laura  undertook  to  do  this ;  and  after  break- 
fast, which  was  soon  eaten,  all  gathered  round 
the  traveller's  box.  And  first  he  pulled  out 
abundance  of  wool  and  paper  ;  and  fold  with- 
in fold  of  silver  paper  was  opened,  till,  upon 
a  bed  of  cotton  wool,  appeared  a  large  cater- 
pillar, with  gold   and   crimson   rings.     After 


ROSAMOND.  221 

some  magical  operation  had  been  performed 
upon  it,  by  its  master,  it  was  placed  upon  a 
large  leaf,  and  it  raised  its  head  and  its  tail, 
after  the  manner  of  caterpillars,  and  showed 
its  many  feet ;  then  walked  deliberately  on, 
drawing  ring  within  ring  as  it  moved  forward, 
the  circulation  of  its  blood  through  each  trans- 
parent circle  seeming  to  appear  so  plainly,  that 
it  was  scarcely  possible  to  doubt  its  life.  Its 
master  took  it  up,  and  stuck  a  pin  under  the 
middle  of  its  body  ;  it  writhed  and  struggled, 
moving  its  head  and  tail  up  and  down  in  such 
apparent  agony,  that  it  was  painful  to  look  at 
it  ;  and  it  seemed  cruel,  as  Rosamond  said,  to 
keep  it  in  such  torture.  Relieved  from  its  im- 
palement, the  beautiful  creature  walked  again 
uninjured ;  and  Rosamond  acknowledged  that 
the  mouse  was  far  surpassed  by  the  caterpillar. 

'You  think  nothing  can  exceed  the  caterpil- 
lar, and  perhaps  you  are  right.'  said  the  travel- 
ler ;  '  but  look  at  this  box,'  added  he,  putting 
into  her  hand  a  gold  snuff-box,  curiously 
wrought.  '  The  chasing  is  rich,  and  this 
enamelled  picture  in  the  lid  is  pretty.' 

1  It  is  a  view  of  Mont  Blanc  and  the  lake  of 
Geneva,  is  not  it  V  said  Rosamonds  '  The 
box  is  very  pretty  ;    but '  . 

As  she  pronounced  the  word  but,  the  lid  flew 
open,  and  up  sprang  a  bird,  a  tiny  bird,  not 
half  the  size  of  the  smallest  of  the  feathered 
tribe,  in  comparison  with  which  the  humming- 
bird and  the  bee-bird  would  seem  gross  and 
vulgar.     Its  body  of  the   brightest   blue,    its 


222  EARLY   LESSONS. 

wings  canary  colour,  streaked  and  variegated. 
It  might  be  of  the  jay  species  ;  but  never  jay 
in  all  its  glory,  never  jay  in  all  its  borrowed 
feathers,  ever  shone  with  plumage  so  gay,  so 
brilliant ;  each  feather  so  perfect  in  itself ;  the 
whole  in  such  shining  order.  Rosamond 
could  have  looked  at  it  for  an  hour  ;  but,  in 
an  instant,  it  moves — it  breathes — it  spreads 
its  wings  bedropped  with  gold — it  raises  its 
head — it  opens  its  beak — it  stretches  its  neck 
— it  warbles,  and  you  see  the  liquid  motion  in 
the  throat  at  every  note  it  sings  !  and  with  a 
sound  so  clear,  so  strong,  so  sweet  !  but  ab- 
rupt !  its  song  is  ended  :  sudden  it  sinks  down  : 
the  prison  lid  of  itself  closes  over  it  ! — to  the 
regret  of  all  the  spectators,  all  the  audience, 
and  most  to  the  regret  of  Rosamond. 

'  Beautiful  bird  !  How  far,  far  superior  to  the 
caterpillar  !'  cried  Rosamond.  '  There  never 
was  any  thing  equal  to  this  since  the  time  of 
the  talking  bird  and  the  singing  tree  in  the 
Arabian  Nights,  or  sirce  the  days  of  Aboulca- 
sem  and  his  never-to-be-forgotten  peacock. 
But  how  far  superior  this  delicate  creature  to 
that  peacock  !  How  wonderful,  that  human 
ingenuity  and  perseverance  can  realize,  and 
more  than  realize,  surpass  the  feats  of  genii 
and  the  imagination  of  fairy  land  !'  Rosamond 
thought  this,  but  could  not  find  words  to  ex- 
press her  admiration.  Again  and  again  she 
begged  to  see  and  hear  the  bird  ;  and  repeated- 
ly it  rose,  and  sung  unwearied,  and  sunk,  obe- 
dient, into  its  prison  house ;  till  at  last,  asham- 


ROSAMOND.  223 

ed  of  troubling  it  or  its  master  more,  Rosamond 
refrained  from  asking  for  '  one  other  song.' 

'  You  think  that  nothing  can  surpass  the 
singing  bird  V  said  the  traveller. 

'  Nothing  !  nothing  !'  replied  Rosamond. 

I  We  shall  see,'  said  the  traveller,  searching 
at  the  bottom  of  his  box  of  wonders  ;  and,  as 
he  drew  out  a  common  pasteboard  trinket  box, 
she  said  to  herself,  '  Whatever  this  may  be,  he 
should  certainly  have  produced  it  before  the 
bird.  It  is  impossible  we  can  like  it  half  as 
well.  I  really  have  no  curiosity  to  see  it ; 
but  it  would  not  be  civil  to  tell  him  so.' 

The  traveller,  with  a  provoking  look  of  se- 
curity and  deliberation,  shook  from  its  cotton 
and  papers  a  golden  bracelet,  which  Rosamond 
received,  as  he  put  it  into  her  hands,  with  a 
look  in  which  disappointment  sadly  contend- 
ed with  civility — sadly  and  vainly  !  As  the 
gold  chains  hung  from  her  hand,  she  observ- 
ed that  it  was  pretty  ,  but  that  was  all. 

I I  see,'  said  the  traveller,  '  that  you  have 
not  the  taste  which  some  young  ladies  have 
for  mere  pretty  useless  ornaments.' 

'  There  was  a  time,'  said  her  mother,  'when 
Rosamond  liked  pretty  useless  things,  but  that 
is  completely  past.' 

1  I  hope  so,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Perhaps  you  may  think  differently  of  this 
bracelet,  when  you  have  worn  it,'  said  the 
traveller.  '  Give  me  leave  to  clasp  it  on  your 
arm ;  you  must  wear  it  a  few  moments  before 
you  can  judge.' 


224 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


He  put  it  on,  while  Rosamond  looked  supe- 
rior down,  and  smiled. 

'  Wait  till  the  charm  operates,'  said  he,  'and 
you  will  prefer  the  bracelet  to  the  bird.' 

'  What  charm  V  said  Rosamond,  looking  at 
Godfrey.  '  The  charm  of  vanity  ?  I  hope  you 
have  not  so  mean  an  opinion  of  me.  I  as- 
sure you,  that  I  infinitely  prefer  the  bird  to 
all  the  bracelets' She  stopt,  and  started. 

1  It  pricks  me  !  I  felt  it  prick.  Indeed, 
Godfrey,  it  did  prick  me.' 

1  Imagination  !'  said  Godfrey. 

c  No  imagination,  brother.  I  wish  you  had 
felt  it.  Look  here,'  said  she,  unclasping  the 
bracelet ;  '  the  red  mark,  do  you  see  it  on  my 
wrist  ?  Will  you  believe  it  now  V 


ROSAMOND.  225 

1 1  see  it  really,  '  said  Godfrey.  '  Then  if 
it  was  not  imagination,  it  must  be  conscience; 
the  prick  of  conscience.' 

'As  if  it  could  be  conscience  !  But  it  almost 
drew  blood.  Let  me  try  it  once  more  ;  there 
again  I  felt  it' 

'  It  is  the  bracelet  of  conscience,'  cried  God- 
frey.    '  Look  how  she  blushes  !' 

'  I  blushed  only  from  surprise,  brother,  as 
any  body  might.     But  of  what  use ' 

c  It  is  !  It  is  the  bracelet  of  conscience,'  re- 
peated Godfrey,  laughing. 

'  Only  the  bracelet  of  memory,'  said  the 
traveller.  '  Tell  me,  is  there  any  thing  you 
wish  to  remember  at  a  particular  hour  or  min- 
ute, this  day  ?  and  I  will  engage  that  the 
prick  of  this  talismanic  bracelet  shall  remind 
you  of  it,  true  to  a  second.' 

'  Is  it  possible  ?  Let  me  see.  Yes,  there  is 
something  I  wish  to  remember  to-day.  You 
know,  Laura,  at  twelve  o'clock — no,  at  half 
past  twelve,  we  are  to  go  to  see  that  poor 
blind  woman.' 

The  traveller  took  the  bracelet  into  his  own 
hands  ;  what  conjuration  he  performed  was 
not  seen  or  heard ;  but  he  clasped  it  again  on 
Rosamond's  arm,  and  bid  her  wait  the  result 
patiently. 

Patiently,  was  too  much  to  expect  ;  with 
her  wrist  stiffened,  and  her  eyes  fixed  alter- 
nately upon  the  bracelet  and  upon  the  minute 
hand  of  the  traveller's  watch,  which  he  had 
placed  before  her,  she  sat  till  the  minutehand 


226  EARLY    LESSONS. 

pointed  to  half  past  twelve  ;  and  at  that  mo- 
ment Rosamond,  starting  up,  exclaimed, 

'  It  is  so  !  I  felt  it  !  It  is  like  the  ring  of 
Prince  Cherry  in  the  Fairy  Tales  !  It  is  like 
the  ring  of  Am  ura  th  in  the  Adventurer.  Oh 
how  often,  when  I  was  a  child,  have  I  wished 
for  such  a  ring  !  But  is  it  possible  !  How  can 
it  be  V  The  traveller  touched  a  spring,  and 
the  lid  of  the  medallion  of  the  bracelet  open- 
ing, discovered  within,  the  dial-plate  of  a  very 
small  watch. 

'  It  is  an  alarum,'  said  the  traveller,  '  that 
can  be  set  to  the  hour  and  minute  required  ; 
so  that,  at  a  certain  moment,  the  point  which 
you  felt  pricking  you  is  pushed  through  this 
scarcely  visible  hole  withinside  the  bracelet, 
where  it  touches  the  arm.  The  artist  who 
made  it  told  me  that  it  cost  him  infinite  pains 
to  bring  the  mechanism  within  to  the  requis- 
ite degree  of  precision.  But  at  last,  you  see, 
it  perfectly  succeeds,  and  I  hope  the  lady  for 
whom  it  is  intended  will  be  pleased  with  this 
ingenious  trinket.' 

■  To  be  sure  she  must  be  pleased,  and  ex- 
cessively pleased  with  it,  or  nothing  in  the 
world  could  ever  please  her,'  said  Rosamond. 

'  Nothing  in  the  world  !'  repeated  Godfrey. 

'Of  this  sort,  I  mean,'  added  Laura. 

Rosamond  asked  the  traveller  who  it  was 
that  invented  all  these  beautiful  and  ingen- 
ious things,  and  where  they  were  made  ? — 
He  answered,  that  they  were  all  invented  and 
executed  at  Geneva,    by  a  clockmaker   and 


ROSAMOND. 


227 


jeweller,  who  lived  in  a  little  dark  shop  up 
seven  flight  of  stairs,  in  a  house  difficult  to 
find,  and  to  be  found  only  after  groping  thro' 
an  obscure,  long,  covered,  noisome  passage. 
Yet  through  this  passage,  and  up  these  stairs, 
every  traveller,  male  or  female,  of  any  dis- 
tinction, or  of  any  curiosity,  who  has  ever 
passed  through  Geneva,  has  been  drawn  by 
the  fame  of  M.  Bautte  ! 

Rosamond  did  not  wonder  at  it.  The  tra- 
veller declared,  that  his  knees  had  often  ached 
in  the  service  of  his  fair  countrywomen,  in 
going  up  and  down,  seven  times  a  day,  these 
seven  flights  of  steep  stone  stairs.     He  said, 


228  EARLY   LESSONS. 

that  he  had  been,  in  his  last  visit  to  Geneva, 
overwhelmed  with  commissions,  so  that  he 
had  been  obliged  absolutely  to  refuse  to  bring 
over  dozens  of  watches  and  necklaces,  and 
rings  innumerable;  he  had  not  however  been 
able  to  resist  the  solicitations  of  a  dear  friend's 
sister,  who  had  begged  him  to  take  charge  of 
this  little  box  of  wonders.  Rosamond  was 
right  glad  that  he  had  been  so  good-rlatured. 

'  And  pray  now,  sir,'  said  the  country  gen- 
tleman, who  had  been  all  this  time  standing 
apart,  engaged  with  the  newspaper,  '  may  I, 
without  indiscretion,  ask  the  price  of  these 
wonders  V  The  traveller  answered,  that 
the  caterpillar,  as  well  as  he  recollected,  was 
thirty  or  forty  guineas  ;  the  bird,  a  hundred  ; 
and  the  bracelet  sixty  guineas.' 

'Only  sixty  for  the  bracelet  !'  cried  Rosa- 
mond. 

'  Only  /'  repeated  the  country  gentleman. 
'  Only  think  of  sixty  guineas  for  a  bracelet  !' 

'  It  is  a  great  deal  to  be  sure,'  said  Rosa- 
mond ;  '  but  I  was  surprised,  that  it  was  so 
much  less  than  the  price  of  the  bird.' 

'  The  bird  a  cool  hundred  ;  the  caterpillar, 
say  forty  ;  the  bracelet,  a  great  bargain,  six- 
ty guineas  ;  so  there  goes  two  hundred  good 
guineas  of  English  money,  to  foreign  parts, 
for  these  gimcracks,'  said  the  country  gentle- 
man ;  '  and  how  many  hundreds  more  will  go, 
think  you,  in  the  same  way,  out  of  England, 
before  the  end  of  the  year  V 

1  Thousands,  not  hundreds/  answered  the 


ROSAMOND.  229 

traveller,  l  and  before  the  end  of  the  month. 
Don't  sigh,  man  !  all  the  better  for  trade.' 

'  Foreign  trade,  sir,'  said  the  country  gen- 
tleman. 

'  True,'  said  the  traveller,  '  but  are  not  we 
liberal  citizens  of  the  world  V 

1  No,  sir,  I  am  not  what  you  call  liberal,' 
replied  the  country  gentleman  ;  '  and  I  do  not 
pique  myelf  upon  being  a  citizen  of  the  world  ; 
I  look  at  home  first.' 

'  And  last,'  said  the  traveller. 

'  First  and  last,  sir,  I  look,  as  it  is  my  duty 
to  do,  to  my  own  concerns,  to  my  own  little 
snug  cell  in  the  great  beehive  ;  and,  if  every 
one  would  do  the  same,  I  have  a  notion  the 
beehive  would  prosper.  In  short,  without 
tropes  or  figures,  which  after  all  are  mostly 
nonsense,  I  will  confess  to  you,  that  I  am 
heartily  glad  that  none  of  my  girls,  nor  my 
wife,  happened  to  be  at  the  unpacking  of  your 
box  ;  if  they  had,  I  should  have  been  cursed 
with  an  importation  of  these  wriggling  cater- 
pillars, and  snuff-box  singing  birds,  and  prick- 
ing bracelets,  and  no  rational  man  alive  can 
guess  how  many  more  ingenious  absurdities.' 

Rosamond  thought  the  word  absurdities 
was  too  strong — too  hard.  But  the  indignant 
gentleman  went  on  ■ — 

'  It  may  be  too  severe,  but  I  make  it  a  prin- 
ciple to  discourage  the  taste  for  baubles  in  my 
family,  ingenious  or  not  ingenious  ;  yet,  after 
all,  it  is  astonishing  what  sums  of  money  my 
girls  waste  upon  trinkets.' 


230  EARLY   LESSONS. 

The  country  gentleman  here  inveighed  a- 
gainst  the  general  taste  for  luxuries,  and  told 
anecdotes  of  several  of  his  neighbors,  or  ac- 
quaintance, who  had  been  ruined  by  the  expen- 
sive habits  of  their  wives  and  daughters.  He 
mentioned  in  particular  one  lady,  whom  he  had 
seen  at  a  ball  covered  with  diamonds,  at  a 
time  when  her  husband  was  in  jail  for  her 
debts.  '  Yes,  young  lady,  I  remember,  years 
before,  thinking  what  it  would  come  to,  when 
I  saw  her  buy  one  morning  half  a  shop  full  of 
your  mighty  ingenious  baubles  !'  added  he, 
laying  his  hand  on  Rosamond's  shoulder,  who 
was  at  this  moment  contemplating  the  cater- 
pillar walking  on  the  back  of  an  opened  packet 
of  letters,  which  the  traveller  was  holding. 

Rosamond,  colouring,  turned  away  to  look 
for  Godfrey,  who  was  standing  behind  her. 

'  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of,  brother/ 
whispered  she,  '  you  are  thinking  of  the  purple 
jar.  But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  be- 
tween admiring  what  is  ingenious  and  beau- 
tiful, and  having  a  taste  for  useless  baubles, 
or  having  habits  of  extravagance,  I  hope.' 

'  I  hope  V  echoed  Godfrey,  with  a  provoking 
smile. 

'  You  hope,  but  I  am  sure  of  it,'  said  Rosa- 
mond. l  Do  you  think  I  forget  my  father's  re- 
fusing himself  that  fine  picture  the  other  day, 
and  all  he  said  about  the  difference  between 
the  taste  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  pictures,  for 
instance,  and  a  taste  for  the  mere  possession  of 
them  ?     This  may  be  applied  to  other  things. 


ROSAMOND.  231 

'It  may  be  applied,  no  doubt,'  replied  God- 
frey. 

'  May  !  but  do  you  not  see,  that  it  is  appli- 
ed by  me  in  my  own  case  V 

1  What's  your  own  case  ?'  said  Godfrey. 
( I  did  not  know  you  were  in  any  case.' 

'  Well ;  but  supposing  I  was  in  a  case 
where  I  was  to  judge  and  to  act  V 

1  Why  then  we  should  see  how  you  would 
judge  and  act,  my  dear.' 

1  Very  well ;  I  who  know  what  passes  with- 
inside  of  my  own  mind,  better  than  you  can 
do  with  all  your  penetration,  I  know  that  I 
have  not  the  least  wish,  at  this  instant,  to  pos- 
sess or  purchase  the  caterpillar,  bird,  or' 

'  Bracelet — she  would  have  said,  but  con- 
science pricked  her  in  time,'  cried  Godfrey. 

'  I  confess  I  should  wish  to  have  the  brace- 
let,' said  Rosamond ;  { but  I  think  I  could  re- 
sist the  temptation,  and  that  is  all  that  is  ne- 
cessary.' 

'  Stay  till  you  are  tried,'  said  Godfrey, 
'  and  luckily  for  you  that  is  not  very  likely 
at  present.' 

This  by-battle  was  interrupted  by  an  excla- 
mation from  the  traveller,  who,  starting  up, 
and  throwing  down  one  of  the  letters  he  had 
just  opened,  cried,  '  The  most  provoking  wo- 
man in  the  world  !  After  all  the  trouble  I  have 
taken,  she  writes  me  word  she  has  changed 
her  mind,  and  hopes  I  have  not  quite  bought 
the  bracelet.  Quite  bought;  what  a  lady-like 
expression !    Because  she  has  fallen  in  love 


232  EARLY   LESSONS. 

with  a  hundred  guinea  cashmere,  and  she  re* 
ally  must  be  economic  and  give  up  the  brace- 
let. How  can  any  man,  any  reasonable  crea- 
ture, be  prepared  for  these  alternate  hot  and 
cold  fits  of  extravagance  and  economy  !  But 
no  matter.  She  very  obligingly  tells  me  that 
I  must  get  it  off  her  hands  as  well  as  I  can, 
and  as  soon  as  possible,  if  unluckily  I  have 
quite  bought  it  ;  and  her  ladyship  is  my  af- 
fectionately obliged,  <fec.  But  stay,  here  is  a 
postscript  :  '  If  you  cannot  get  it  off  your 
hands,  the  best  way  will  be  to  return  it  to  M. 
Bautte,  who  will,  I  am  sure,  take  it  back  to 
oblige  me  ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  I  must  beg 
that  you  would  send  it  back,  because,  as  I 
have  not  it  myself,  I  had  much  rather  nobody 
should  have  it  in  England,  because ' 

'  The  rest  is  illegible  ;  ho,  stay,  here  is  a 
scribble  under  the  seal.  '  Mr.  Somebody  of 
Geneva,  who  is  now  in  town,  and  who  has 
just  been  with  me  for  my  lord's  pupils,  sets 
off  for  Geneva  on  Friday,  and  will  take  charge 
of  the  bracelet,  and  of  the  whole  business.' 

5  For  her  lord's  pupils  !  What  can  that 
mean  ?  I  did  not  know  her  lord  had  any  pu- 
pils. Mrs.  Egerton,  Dr.  Egerton,  can  you 
guess  what  her  ladyship  means  ?  No,  nobody 
can  guess,  for  she  never  knows  herself  above 
half  her  own  meaning,  and  that  half  she  chan- 
ges while  her  humble  servants  are  puzzling  a- 
bout  the  other.  But  seriously  here  I  am  with 
the  bracelet  of  memory  on  my  rash  hands. 
I  cannot  think  of  sending  it  back  again  to 


ROSAMOND.  233 

Geneva,  for  it  is  bought — quite  bought.  But 
as  there  is  not  another  in  England — not  ano- 
ther in  the  world — and,'  added  he,  ironically 
smiling  at  Rosamond,  '  as  it  is  only  sixty 
guineas,  I  think  I  am  safe  enough.  It  will 
be  off  my  hands  before  I  have  been  twenty- 
four  hours  in  town  ;  it  will  be  snatched  out 
of  my  hands  by  rival  beauties.' 

Rosamond  put  on  the  bracelet,  and,  looking 
fondly  at  it,  saying  to  herself,  '  It  is  fortunate 
for  me  that  I  have  not  sixty  guineas,  or  God- 
frey might  be  right  after  all.  It  would  be  such 
a  delightful  thing  to  buy  it  to  give  to  Laura, 
who  I  know  likes  it  as  much  as  I  do.  She 
said  it  was  the  prettiest  and  most  ingenious 
invention  she  ever  saw,  and  the  most  useful 
certainly  ;  but  I  have  no  money.' 

With  a  sigh,  she  resigned  the  bracelet  into 
the  hands  of  Laura,  who,  according  to  her 
promise,  was  carefully  packing  up  the  box  of 
wonders.  At  the  close  of  her  soliloquy,  Rosa- 
mond looked  up  to  see  what  Godfrey  was 
thinking  of,  but  Godfrey  had  left  the  room. 
She  heard  his  voice  on  the  lawn,  speaking  in 
a  tone  of  joy,  and  she  ran  to  the  window  to 
see  who  or  what  was  arrived. 

She  saw  on  the  lawn,  before  the  hall  door, 
a  beautiful  little  bright  bay  mare,  at  which 
Godfrey  and  her  father  were  looking,  while  a 
rider  by  turns  walked,  trotted,  and  cantered  the 
mare,  showing  her  gentleness,  spirit,  and  fine 
paces.  Soon,  Godfrey,  sent  by  his  father,  came 
vol.  ii.    20 


234 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


in  to  Rosamond,  and,  seizing  her  arm,  carried 
her  out  along  with  him  so  rapidly  that  she  could 
hardly  keep  up  with  him.  '  Fly !  fly !  my  father 
wants  to  speak  to  you  directly,  and  I  know 
what  he  is  going  to  say  to  you  ;  but  I  am  not 
to  tell  you.  Indeed  he  did  not  tell  me,  but  I 
know,  and  I  give  you  joy,  Rosamond.' 

Godfrey  would  have  waited  to  see  her  joy, 
tut  his  father  sent  him  back,  and  desired  that. 
Rosamond  should  come  alone. 

{  Very  extraordinary  !'  thought  Godfrey, 
1  when  I  know  the  secret  very  well — that  this 
mare  is  intended  for  Rosamond.' 


ROSAMOND.  235 

Rosamond  had  no  idea  that  the  horse  was 
for  her,  till  she  saw  a  servant  coming  out  of 
the  stable  yard,  carrying  a  side-saddle. 

1  Is  it  possible,  my  dear  father  !'  she  cried. 

'  Yes,  it  is  possible,'  replied  her  father  smil- 
ing ;  l  it  is  possible,  but  it  is  not  certain  ;  in- 
deed, I  scarcely  think  it  is  probable.' 

Rosamond,  afraid  that  she  had  taken  too 
much  for  granted,  felt  ashamed  of  having  im- 
agined that  the  horse  was  for  her.  Yet,  when 
the  groom  was  ordered  to  draw  the  stirrup 
up  to  the  hole  in  which  it  was  usually  put  for 
Miss  Rosamond,  she  was  confirmed  in  her 
first  thought. 

\  Go  and  put  on  your  habit,  my  dear,  and 
you  shall  try  this  horse.' 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  Never  was  a 
habit  more  quickly  put  on.  But  before  she 
was  '  in  her  saddle  set,'  she  had  fifty  alterna- 
tions of  hope  and  fear. 

'  Pretty  creature  !  pretty  creature  !'  said 
she,  patting  its  neck.  '  What  a  beautiful 
bright  bay,  and  how  delightfully  she  canters.' 

'  All  that  a  woman  ever  thinks  of  about  a 
horse  is,  whether  it  is  a  pretty  colour,  and 
whether  it  canters  well,'  said  her  father. 

'  But  look  how  well  she  walks  ;  and  she 
has  such  an  easy  trot,  I  could  trot  forever  up- 
on her  ;  and  she  has  such  a  fine  mouth,  that, 
as  Godfrey  said  of  Helen's  pony,  she  could  be 
ridden  with  a  rein  of  worsted ;  and  it  is  such 
a  difficult  thing,  as  Godfrey  Says,  to  find  a 
lady's  horse.' 


236  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Ladtfs  horse  !  Rosamond  was  a  little  asha- 
med when  the  words  sounded  on  her  ear.  and 
she  endeavored  to  mend  the  matter.  '  I  mean 
a  good  horse,  whether  it  is  for  a  lady  or  not' 

Her  father  smiled  and  was  silent.  What 
could  he  be  thinking  of  1 

1  Rosamond,'  said  he,  'this  good  horse  was 
intended  for  a  lady's  horse,  and  you  are  the 
lady  for  whom  it  was  intended.' 

1  WasV 

'Was,'  repeated  her  father.  'Whether  it 
shall  be  yours  or  not  depends  upon  your  own 
choice.' 

'  My  choice  !'  O,  if  it  depends  on  my  choice, 
thank  you,  thank  you,  father  ;  I  choose  it 
certainly.' 

'  Stay,  my  dear  ;  choice  implies  the  power 
of  judging  between  two  things,  and  you  must 
hear  to  the  end  of  my  sentence  before  you  can 
decide  ;  you  must  know  what  the  two  things 
are  between  which  you  are  to  decide.  The 
price  of  this  horse  is  sixty  guineas  ;  here  is 
the  money  ;  you  may  lay  it  out  as  you  please, 
either  in  purchasing  this  horse,  or  in  buying 
the  bracelet  you  saw  this  morning.  Now  take 
your  choice,  my  dear,  and  judge  for  yourself 

Rosamond  was  quite  silenced  by  surprise, 
joy,  gratitude,  and  by  the  sense  of  the  impor- 
tance of  the  decision  she  had  to  make.  '  It  is 
no  child's  play,'  thought  she.  '  Sixty  guineas! 
how  very  kind  of  my  father  to  think  of  buy- 
ing a  horse  for  me,  and  such  a  horse  !' 

While  she   was  on  this  horse,    and  riding 


ROSAMOND.  237 

with  her  father,  she  felt  little  doubt  of  what 
her  choice  would  be.  -  The  horse,  the  horse, 
certainly  the  horse  !'  It  would  be  such  plea- 
sure to  ride  with  her  father  and  with  Godfrey, 
and  she  should  also  be  able  to  lend  it  to  Lau- 
ra, who  would  like  it  exceedingly.  In  short, 
she  was  determined,  quite  determined,  in  fa- 
vor of  the  horse  ;  but  when  her  ride  was  fin- 
ished, when  she  went  into  the  library  and 
saw  the  box  of  wonders,  packed  but  not  yet 
locked,  she  wished  to  look  at  the  bracelet  once 
more — she  stood  pondering. 

Godfrey,  coming  close  to  her,  took  hold  of 
the  whip  which  she  held  in  her  hand.  '  Well, 
Rosamond,  how  do  you  like  your  new  horse?' 

'  Very  much,  brother,  but ' 

•  But  what  ?  I  suppose  she  put  up  her  ears, 
and  that  you  were  afraid,  and  now  ashamed 
to  tell  us  so  ?  hey  V 

'  No  such  thing.' 

1  What  then  1  What  can  make  you  look  so 
careful,  so  wondrous  careful  ?' 

'  I  have  reason  to  look  careful,'  said  Rosa- 
mond, turning  to  Laura,  '  for  I  have  a  great 
judgment  to  make.' 

Then  she  told  them  what  had  passed,  and 
asked  their  advice,  adding,  that  she  was  al- 
most determined  to  choose  the  horse,  but  that 
she  should  like  to  look  once  more  at  the  brace- 
let, as  the  box  was  not  locked,  if  it  would  not 
be  too  much  trouble  to  Laura  to  unpack  it. 

'  Not  the  least  trouble,'  said  Laura,  yet  she 
made  no  advance  towards  the  box.  '  No  trow 


238  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ble  to  me  to  unpack  it  ;  but  I  do  not  perceive 
what  advantage  it  can  be  to  you  to  see  the 
bracelet  again.  You  know  as  much  now  as 
you  can  know  about  it.  How  can  seeing  it 
again  assist  your  judgment*?' 

1  Fair  play,  fair  play,  Laura !'  cried  Godfrey. 
'  If  people  do  not  see,  how  can  they  judge  V 

And  so  saying,  with  the  traveller's  leave, 
he  unpacked  the  box,  reproduced  the  bracelet, 
spread  it  before  Rosamond's  eyes,  and  finish- 
ed by  again  clasping  it  on  her  wrist. 

'  Now  come  away  and  leave  her  to  judge 
for  herself,'  said  Laura,  drawing  Godfrey  a- 
way. 

'No,  no,'  said  Godfrey  resisting  ;  l  what  a 
pretty  sort  of  judgment  a  person  must  have 
who  cannot  decide  when  others  are  standing 
by  !  very  useful  it  would  be  to  them  in  the 
course  of  their  life  !  But,'  whispered  he,  '  I 
think  it  is  not  quite  fair  that  mother  should 
stand  there,  as  she  does,  looking  so  anxious ; 
that  must  disturb  Rosamond's  reflections  ;  and 
if  she  decides  only  to  please  mother,  or  be- 
cause she  is  afraid  to  give  mother  pain,  there 
will  be  no  trial  or  proof  of  prudence.' 

His  mother  went  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  and  waited  for  Rosamond's  decision, 
without  influencing  her  by  word  or  look. 

'  Remember,  Rosamond,'  said  Godfrey, '  that 
there  are  many  horses  in  the  world,  many 
such  horses  as  that  ;'  pointing  to  the  horse, 
which  the  groom  was  leading  past  the  win- 
dow ;  '  many  hundred,    thousand     perhaps, 


ROSAMOND.  239 

such  horses  as  that,  and  only  one  such  brace- 
let as  this  !  Only  one  in  the  world ! — The 
bracelet  of  memory — Le  bracelet  de  souvenir, 
if  you  like  it  better  in  French.  And  how  yon 
will  show  it  in  London  to  Miss  This !  and 
Lady  T'other  !  and  how  Miss  This  and  La- 
dy T'other  will  admire  it ;  and  how  they  will 
wish  that  heaven  had  blessed  them  with  such 
a  bracelet  ;  and  how  they  will  envy  you  ! 
and  how  often  they  will  ask,  if  it  is  not  pos- 
sible that  they  could  get  such  a  one !  And 
you  will  answer,  '  that  if  they  were  to  give 
the  world  for  it  they  could  not  get  such  ano- 
ther, for  it  was  made  on  purpose  for  you.' 

These  last  words,  which  Godfrey  pronoun- 
ced in  a  marked  tone  of  irony,  recalled  the 
recollection  of  one  of  the  adventures  of  Ros- 
amond's childhood.  She  smiled  and  said, 
Brother,  I  am  not  such  a  child,  such  a  fool 
as  you  think  me.' 

'  But  seriously,  Rosamond,'  said  he,  '  con- 
sider, as  you  said  this  morning,  what  a  very 
ingenious  thing  this  bracelet  is,  like  Prince 
Cherry's  ring,  and  Amurath's  ring.  And  it 
is  not  a  bauble,  but  a  talisman — a  fairy  talis- 
man ;  and  I  could  make  verses  upon  it,  lines 
addressed  to  a  lady — 

Fairy  treasure — Fairest  Fair — ' 

Godfrey  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  as 
he  walked  Up  and  down  the  room,  searching 
perhaps  for  a  rhyme  to  fair,  but  returning  to 
Rosamond,  he  went  on. 


240  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  It  is  snch  a  very  useful  bracelet.  Rosa- 
mond. With  the  bracelet  of  memory  yon  can 
never  fail  to  do  all  your  duties  in  this  world, 
and  yon  will  always  remember  every  thing 
yon  have  to  do  punctually  to  an  instant  ;  a 
single  prick  will  do  the  business.' 

'  By  the  by,'  said  Laura,  '  did  you  go  to 
the  blind  woman  this  morning,  Rosamond  V 

1 1  did  not  indeed,'  said  Rosamond  color- 
ing, '  though  the  bracelet  pricked  me  exactly 
at  the  right  moment.' 

1  But  this  was  only  the  first  time — the  first 
prick,'  said  Godfrey.  '  Very  likely  you  will 
mind  it  better  the  next  time.' 

'  That  is  not  likely,'  said  Rosamond  ;  '  it 
is  more  likely  that  I  should  grow  quite  used 
to  it,  and  indifferent  to  the  prick.  And  after  all, 
a  watch  tells  me  just  as  well  the  right  time, 
for  every  thing  I  have  to  do.  I  flattered  the 
bracelet,  or  flattered  myself,  when  I  said  it 
was  so  very  useful.  The  horse,  no  doubt,  is  far 
the  most  useful.  But  there  is  one  really  good 
argument  in  favor  of  the  bracelet,'  said  she, 
'  that  it  will  last  longer  than  the  horse  ;  the 
horse  may  die,  may  be  lamed,  may  go  blind, 
and  there  will  be  an  end  of  her.' 

'  And  you  forget  that  you  may  break  or 
lose  the  bracelet,'  said  Laura. 

'  True,'  said  Rosamond.  'There  is  not  one 
really  good  argument  in  favor  of  the  bracelet. 
1  have  considered  them  all.  Pack  it  up,  Lau- 
ra ;  I  have  done  with  it.  Thank  you,  my 
dear  father,  I  decide  for  the  horse.' 


ROSAMOND.  241 

Her  decision  was  approved  of  by  all  pres- 
ent, by  Godfrey  especially.  '  I  really  did  not 
think  you  were  so  sensible,  Rosamond,'  said 
he.  '  Confess  that  my  ironical  arguments 
helped  you  a  little.  As  fast  as  I  put  weights 
into  the  wrong  scale  of  your  mind,  you  were 
forced  to  find  others  to  balance  them  in  the 
right  scale.  Confess  that,  though  I  plagued 
you,  I  was  of  some  little  use  to  you  at  last? 

1  Of  some  little  use,'  said  Rosamond  smil- 
ing. c  You  see,  my  dear  mother,  at  last,  that 
with  Godfrey's  and  Laura's  assistance  I  am 
not  quite  a  fool.' 


VOL.  II.      21 


242  EARLY   LESSONS. 


BLIND  KATE. 


While  Rosamond  was  thus  congratulating 
her  mother  and  herself  upon  her  not  being 
quite  a  fool,  Laura  was  repacking  the  box  of 
wonders. 

In  the  haste  in  which  Godfrey  had  unpacked 
it,  some  brown  paper  at  the  bottom  of  the 
bird  box  had  been  rumpled  ;  she  took  it  up  to 
smooth  it,  and  found  underneath  it  a  small 
pamphlet,  which,  having  been  also  much  dis- 
turbed, she  took  that  out  to  set  it  to  rights. 
As  soon  as  the  traveller  saw  it,  he  exclaimed, 

'  The  very  pamphlet  I  have  been  looking 
for  among  all  my  packages,  and  could  never 
find  !  I  knew  I  had  put  it  up  remarkably 
carefully,  but  I  could  npt  recollect  where,  and 
now  I  remember  I  put  it  into  this  box,  that  I 
might  get  at  it  readily.  It  is  the  pamphlet 
you  desired  me  to  bring  to  you,  Dr.  Egerton, 
by  Maunoir,  the  celebrated  Genevese  oculist  j 
iMemoires  sur  Vorganisation  de  Viris  el  lope- 
ration  de  la  pupille  artificielle?  And  now  I 
recollect  what  Lady  Scribble,  as  I  may  well 
call  her,  meant  by  her  lord's  pupils,  and  the 
name  we  could  not  decipher  must  be  Maunoir.' 

The  traveller  and  Dr.  Egerton  began  to 
look  over  the  pamphlet  together,  and  Rosa- 
mond approaching  them  listened  anxiously. 


ROSAMOND.  243 

She  heard  the  traveller  give  an  account  of 
a  French  emigrant  officer,  who  had  been  ban- 
ished by  mistake  to  Siberia,  where,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  glare  of  the  snows,  he  lost  his 
sight,  continued  fifteen  years  blind,  and  after 
he  recovered  his  liberty  went  from  oculist  to 
oculist  in  vain,  till  at  last  Scarpa  the  famous 
Italian  surgeon  sent  him  to  Geneva,  telling 
him,  that  if  any  body  in  the  world  could  serve 
him  it  must  be  Maunoir  of  Geneva.  To 
Maunoir  he  went.  After  undergoing  the  dou- 
ble operation  of  being  couched  for  the  cata- 
ract, and  of  having  new  pupils  made  in  his 
eyes,  he  completely  recovered  his  sight,  and 
in  the  course  of  two  years  sent  to  his  bene- 
factor views  he  had  drawn  for  him  of  the 
countries  through  which  he  had  passed.  The 
traveller  then  gave  a  detailed  account  of  the 
operation  of  forming  the  new  pupils.  Sur- 
prised at  the  profound  attention  with  which 
Rosamond  listened  to  the  account  of  a  surgi- 
cal operation,  the  traveller  inquired  why  it 
interested  her  so  much  ? 

'  Because,'  answered  Rosamond,  '  I  am  in 
hopes  of  hearing  something  that  may  be  use- 
ful to  a  poor  woman  in  this  neighborhood — 
Blind  Kate.  You  may  remember  seeing  her 
one  evening,  when  we  were  returning  from  a 
walk,  sitting  on  a  stone  before  her  door,  and 
a  number  of  children  round  her,  listening  to 
a  story  she  was  telling  them.  I  recollect  your 
stopping  to  listen  too,  and  your  saying,  How 
beautiful  that  woman  would  be  if  she  had 


244  EARLY    LESSONS. 

eyes  !  what  a  pity  that  she  is  blind  V  £I  re- 
collect her  perfectly  well,'  said  the  traveller. 
1  She  had  a  very  interesting  countenance.' 

'  Yes,  she  interests  every  body  who  sees 
her,'  continued  Rosamond,  '  and  much  more 
those  who  know  her,  and  who  know  what  a 
sweet-tempered,  cheerful,  kind-hearted  crea- 
ture she  is.  All  the  little  children  of  the 
neighborhood  are  so  fond  of  her,  and  all  the 
old  people.  If  any  of  them  are  in  sorrow 
they  always  go  to  tell  it  to  her,  and  she  pities 
them  ;  and  if  any  good  fortune  befals  any  one 
in  the  neighborhood,  they  go  directly  to  tell  it 
to  Blind  Kate.  This  was  the  way  we  first 
got  acquainted  with  her.' 

'  Which  was  the  way?'  interrupted  Godfrey. 

'  O  never  mind  ;  you  know  what  I  mean.' 
said  Rosamond.  '  You  remember,  Laura, 
when  the  paralytic  woman  was  settled  in  her 
new  comfortable  house,  that  good  Mary  went 
for  Blind  Kate  and  brought  her  in,  that  she 
might  feel  how  comfortable  it  was.  Such 
pleasure  appeared  in  her  poor  blind  counten- 
ance !  she  seemed  quite  to  forget  her  own 
misfortunes.  I  remember  her  saying  repeat- 
edly, '  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  so  comfort- 
able ;  it  is  the  happiest  day  I  have  seen  this 
many  a  year.'  Her  only  painful  thought,  she 
says,  is,  that  she  can  do  nothing  for  anybody. 
O  how  I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  her  !' 
concluded  Rosamond,  c  particularly  as  I  for- 
got to  go  to  see  her  this  morning.  I  should 
be  so  glad  to  carry  her  some  good  news  !  but 


ROSAMOND. 


245 


she  has  been  couched,  and  it  has  done  her  no 
good.' 

To  Rosamond's  great  satisfaction,  the  trav- 
eller proposed  going  immediately  to  see  Blind 
Kate,  that  he  might  examine  her  eyes  care- 
fully, and  determine  whether  there  was  any 
probability  that  this  operation  would  be  of 
use  to  her. 

They  found  her  in  her  cottage,  surrounded 
by  children,  whom  she  was  teaching  to  plait 
straw,  which  she  did  with  great  address. 

'  It  is  my  good  young  lady,'  said  Kate.  '  I 
knew  she  would  come,  though  they  told  me 
it  was  too  late.'  But  hearing  unusual  foot- 
steps, she  rose,  and  stopt  speaking. 


246  EARLY    LESSONS. 

c  I  have  brought  my  father,  Kate,  and  a 
good  gentleman,  who  is  come  to  see  you,  in 
hopes  of  being  of  the  greatest  use  to  you.' 

'  To  me  !  Thanks — many  thanks  to  him  ; 
but  see,  I  want  nothing.' 

1  Nothing,  Kate  !'  said  Rosamond. 

'  How  neatly  you  plait  this  straw,'  said 
Laura  ;  '  almost  as  well  as  any  of  the  chil- 
dren here.' 

'  Better,  a  great  deal,'  said  one  of  the  elder 
children.  '  'Twas  she  taught  all  of  us,  sir ;  see 
the  difference,  and  it's  wonderful  all  she  does.' 

The  children  went  to  fetch  different  things 
she  had  made,  and  told  of  all  she  did  in  the 
house,  more,  they  said,  than  many  that  had 
their  eyesight. 

'  But  if  she  had  her  eyesight  again,  she 
could  do  a  great  deal  more,  and  she  would  be 
a  great  deal  happier  ;  would  you  not,  Kate  ?' 
said  Rosamond.  * 

*  Ah,  if  I  could  but  do  more,  I  should  be 
happier  surely,'  said  Kate  ;  '  that's  all  that 
grieves  me  sometimes.' 

The  traveller  inquired  whether  she  had 
been  blind  from  her  birth  ?  She  answered,  no. 
That  she  had  as  good  eyes  as  any  in  the  par- 
ish, in  the  world,  she  believed,  till  about  nine 
years  ago,  when  she  was  a  girl,  a  giddy  girl 
of  fifteen.     She  lost  them  by  her  own  fault. 

'  Could  you  tell  us  how,  if  it  is  not  too 
painful?'  asked  Rosamond. 

1  That  I  will  ;  I  am  always  ready  to  tell  a- 
bout  it,  for  a  warning  to  the  thoughtless/  she 


ROSAMOND.  247 

saidj  stroking  the  head  of  one  of  the  girls  who 
was  working  near  her.  c  It  was  one  snowy 
winter.  I  had  been  washing,  and  was  hot, 
all  in  a  bath,  and  went  out  to  look  for  a  sheep 
I  had  forgot  to  bring  in,  and  that  I  heard  bleat- 
ing, as  I  thought,  just  in  the  next  field  ;  but, 
not  finding  it  there,  I  went  on  and  on,  the 
wind  all  the  time  very  sharp  and  high  blow- 
ing in  my  face.  I  was  out  the  greatest  part 
of  the  night,  before  I  found  the  sheep  ;  but 
next  morning  my  eyes  were  as  red  as  blood, 
and  that  inflamation  never  ceased,  do  what  I 
would,  or  what  the  doctors  would  ;  leeches, 
bleeding,  blistering,  couching,  every  thing  I 
tried  that  they  bid  me,  but  all  in  vain  ;  the 
inflamation  never  ceased  for  eighteen  months 
or  more,  and  then  left  me,  thank  God  !  free 
from  pain,  but  stone  blind,  as  you  see.' 

From  this  account  the  traveller  augured 
well ;  as  Rosamond  guessed  by  his  counten- 
ance ;  but  she  impatiently  begged  him  to 
speak,  and  tell  her  what  he  thought.  He  asked 
the  poor  woman  to  let  him  examine  her  eyes. 

Upon  a  careful  inspection  the  traveller  gave 
it  as  his  opinion,  that  the  sight  might  be  re- 
stored. Rosamond  was  exceedingly  rejoiced, 
and  begged  that  her  father  would  immediate- 
ly have  it  effected. 

1  But,  Rosamond,'  said  her  father,  '  per- 
haps Kate  would  not  be  willing  to  undergo 
the  operation.' 

Rosamond  endeavored  to  overrule  this  ob- 
jection, by  stating  that  she  was  .certain  Kate 


248  EARLY   LESSONS. 

would  be  willing  to  submit  to  any  thing  that 
would  enable  her  to  regain  her  sight.  '  And 
you  know,  father,  how  delighted  she  must  be 
to  view  again  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  to 
find  herself  no  longer  dependent  upon  the  will 
of  others. 

1 1  am  not  quite  so  certain,  Rosamond,'  said 
her  father,  'of  the  result  which  you  anticipate ; 
Kate  has  been  many  years  shut  out  from  the 
participation  of  such  feelings  as  you  describe 
and  experience  ;  and  though  it  is  certainly  a 
great  blessing  to  enjoy  the  full  possession  of 
our  faculties,  yet  habit  has  so  accustomed  her 
to  the  deprivation,  which,  together  with  the 
sympathy  which  is  usually  excited,  so  consol- 
ing to  the  afflicted,  that  I  question  if  her  hap- 
piness would  be  increased,  by  being  again  de- 
prived of  these  consolations  ;  at  present  she  is 
an  object  of  charity ;  in  possession  of  her  sight, 
that  would  comparatively  cease,  and  her  situ- 
ation would  be  infinitely  worse  than  before.' 

Rosamond's  countenance  exhibited  her  sor- 
row at  this  conclusion,  and  she  expressed  her 
confidence  that  the  same  Providence  would 
Continue,  that  had  hitherto  sustained  her. 

1  You  have  not  heard  enough  yet,  Rosa- 
mond,' said  her  father  ;   '  there  are  difficulties.' 

'  What  difficulties,  sir  ?' 

1  There  is  but  one  person  who  can  perform 
the  operation,  from  which  only  her  cure  can 
be  expected.' 

{ I  know — 1  understand  that  perfectly,  sir,? 
said  Rosamond.    '  The  gentleman  in  the  pam- 


ROSAMOND.  249 

phlet — the  gentleman  mentioned  in  lady — la- 
dy Scribble's  letter.  But  you  know,  sir,  that 
letter  said  that  he  is  now  in  London,  and  that 
he  is  to  stay  there  some  days  longer  ;  then  if 
Kate  goes  immediately,  she  may  be  in  time.' 

1  Perhaps  so  ;  possibly,'  said  her  father. — 
1  But  still  there  are  other  difficulties.  You  do 
not  seem  to  consider,  that,  to  perform  this 
journey,  and  to  pay  an  eminent  surgeon,  and 
to  pay  for  attendance  and  lodgings  in  London, 
during  the  time  she  must  remain  there,  before 
she  could  safely  travel  again  after  the  op- 
eration'  

1  And  perhaps  sea  bathing  afterwards  may 
be  necessary,'  said  the  traveller  ;  'it  was  or- 
dered I  know  in  one  instance.' 

'  What  a  number  of  things  to  be  thought  of 
that  I  never  thought  of,'  said  Rosamond, 
sighing.  '  But  all  this  can  be  done,  cannot 
it  1     What  should  prevent  it  V 

1  That  which  prevents  many  things  from 
being  done  in  this  poor  world,'  said  the  trav- 
eller, '  the  want  of  money.' 

'  Is  that  all  V  said  Rosamond.  '  Would  it 
cost  a  great  deal  V 

1 A  great  deal  more  than  this  poor  woman 
and  all  her  family,  and  all  her  friends,  could 
afford.' 

'But  how  much,  how  much?'  said  Rosa- 
mond. '  Fifty  or  sixty  guineas  perhaps,'  said 
the  traveller. 

'  Just  my  horse,'  cried  Rosamond.  '  You 
have  not  paid  for  it  yet,  dear  father.     Will 


250  EARLY    LESSONS. 

0 

you  give  me  leave  to  give  it  up  ?   and  may  I 
use  the  money  for  Kate  ?' 

I  You  may,  my  dear  daughter,  you  may,  if 
you  will  do  it  prudently  ;  take  time.' 

'  O  yes ;  I  will  be  very  prudent,'  said  Ros- 
amond. '  But  you  know  we  have  no  time  to 
lose  3  Joy  !  joy  !'  cried  she,  going  back  to 
Kate,  who  started  up  at  the  sound.  '  Joy  ! 
joy !  for  now  it  is  all  settled  !  all  certain  ! 
and  I  will  tell  yon  how  it  is  to  be.  You  are 
to  go  to  London  directly.' 

'Shall  IV  said  Kate,  with  a  bewildered  air, 
turning  her  head  to  the  side  whence  Rosa- 
mond's voice  came. 

'  Yes,  you  shall,  good  Kate  ;  listen  to  me, 
and  I  will  explain  it  all.' 

I I  am  listening,  my  dear,  as  well  as  I  can.' 
1  Well,  quietly  sit  down,  here's  your  chair ; 

but  why  do  you  tremble  so,  Kate  V 

'  I  don't  know.' 

1  You  need  not  tremble,  Kate,  for  I  have 
nothing  to  tell  you  but  good.' 

{  O,  I  am  sure  of  that ;  that  is,  I  am  sure 
you  mean  me  nothing  but  good,'  said  Kate. 
1  It's  foolish  of  me  to  tremble,  but  I  am  some- 
times this  way,  when  taken  suddenly.' 

'  Well,'  continued  Rosamond,  speaking  as 
slowly  as  she  could,  '  you  are  to  go  to  Lon- 
don, and  you  shall  be  very  well  taken  care  of 
on  the  road,  and  when  you  get  to  London  we 
will4ake  care  of  what  is  to  be  done ;  trust  to 
me,  will  you  not,  Kate?' 

1  Trust  to  you  ?  O  sure,  yes.     1  have  no  mis- 


ROSAMOND.  251 

trust  in  any,  much  less  you,  dear  miss;  but — ' 

'  But — no  but,  Kate,  till  you  have  heard 
the  whole  that  is  intended.  We  will  not  force 
you  to  do  any  thing,  even  for  your  good,  a- 
gainst  your  will.  Only  hear  me  first,  then 
do  as  you  please.' 

'  Thanks,  thanks  V  said  Kate,  stretching 
out  her  neck  in  eager  attention. 

1  The  operation,'  resumed  Rosamond, 

'Don't  be  frightened  at  the  word  operation.' 

'  Eh,  no.  I  am  used  enough  to  more  than 
hear  of  it ;  that's  not  frightening  me.' 

'  That's  right,  good  Kate  ;  now  you  begin, 
I  see,  to  understand  me.  I  will  tell  you  how 
it  will  be,'  pursued  Rosamond,  going  on  with 
great  rapidity,  f  This  day  week,  on  this  ve- 
ry spot,  you  will  stand  there,  and  you  will 
see  all  in  this  room,  as  well  as  I  see  you  now, 
all  the  faces  of  these  children.  You  will 
never  sigh  again,  Kate,  nor  say  you  can  do 
nothing  for  nobody.' 

Kate  started  up,  but^  'Eh,  dear!'  cried  she, 
gasping.  The  swelled  veins  in  her  forehead 
disappeared ;  she  grew  pale  suddenly,  and 
must  have  fallen  if  Laura  had  not  support- 
ed her.  Rosamond,  excessively  frightened, 
opened  the  window  as  soon  as  she  could  stir, 
and  water  was  brought,  and  air  and  water  in 
time  restored  the  poor  woman  to  herself. 

1  Rosamond,'  said  her  father,  taking  her  a- 

^ide,  '  you  see  how  imprudent  you  were.    Let 

this  teach  you  to  be  more  cautious,  and  go 

more  reasonably  to  work  in  future.     My  dear, 


252  EARLY   LESSONS. 

it  is  not  only  necessary  to  wish  to  do  good, 
but  to  know  how  to  do  it,  else  you  injure  those 
you  would  serve.  That  is  all  I  will  say,  your 
own  good  sense  will  suggest  the  rest.  Wipe 
away  those  tears,  they  will  do  no  good.  Com- 
pose and  command  yourself.  You  have  be- 
gun this,  and  must  go  through  with  it.' 

Laura  came  to  tell  Rosamond  that  the  poor 
woman  had  repeatedly  asked  for  her. 

1  Go  to  her,  my  dear,'  said  her  father  ;  l  we 
will  leave  you,  and  on  our  return  from  our 
walk  we  will  call  for  you,  and  by  that  time 
you  will,  I  hope,  have  considered  well,  and 
determined  what  is  to  be  done,  and  how  it  is 
to  be  accomplished.  You  must  arrange  the 
whole,  and  if  I  approve  of  your  arrangements 
I  will  give  you  any  assistance  in  my  power.' 

'  And  if  you  do  not  approve,  you  will  tell 
me  how  to  do  better.  But  I  wish,  father,  you 
would  not  go  away,  but  advise  me  before- 
hand, and  then  I  should  not  do  things  wrong.' 

'  If  I  always  advised  you  beforehand,  you 
would  never  learn  to  do  things  rightly,'  said 
her  father. 

c  But  cannot  you  stay  now,  my  dear  father, 
because  this  is  a  matter  of  real  consequence, 
and  I  am  afraid  of  doing  mischief,  more  mis- 
chief.' 

1  It  is  a  matter  of  real  consequence,'  said 
her  father.     '  But  now  that  you  are  afraid  of 
doing  mischief,  and  are  aware  of  the  danger,* 
you  will  take  care  to  avoid  it.     I  leave  you, 
trusting  that  you  will  exert  your  good  sense, 


ROSAMOND.  253 

where  the  happiness  of  a  human  creature  de- 
pends so  much  upon  your  prudence.' 

So  saying,  he  went,  taking  Laura  and  the 
traveller  away  with  him. 

Kate  being  now  quite  recovered,  and  a 
neighbor  having  come  in  to  stay  with  and 
take  care  of  her,  Rosamond,  left  alone,  sat 
down  in  the  porch,  to  consider  what  she  ought 
to  do.  She  looked  into  the  cottage,  and  saw- 
Kate  lying  on  her  bed,  and  heard  her  say  to 
one  of  the  children,  that  now  they  were  alone 
she  would  try  to  sleep,  for  that  she  felt 
strangely  tired,  though  she  had  done  nothing 
this  day  to  tire  her. 

Rosamond  made  a  sign  to  the  children,  to 
prevent  them  from  saying  that  she  was  there, 
thinking,  that  the  best  thing  that  could  be 
done  at  this  instant,  was  to  let  her  sleep  and 
compose  her  mind,  which  had  been  so  much 
agitated. 

While  she  slept,  Rosamond  sent  one  of  the 
children  to  the  Abbey  with  a  note  to  Mrs. 
Egerton.  The  note  requested,  that  Mrs.  E., 
who  knew  so  well  the  characters  of  the  people 
in  the  neighborhood,  would  tell  her  who 
would  be  a  proper  person  to  travel  with  and 
take  care  of  Blind  Kate,  if  she  were  to  be  sent 
to  London,  to  have  this  operation  performed. 
The  person  Mrs.  Egerton  named  in  her  an- 
swer was  a  Mrs.  Hand,  the  neighbor  who 
was  at  this  time  with  Kate,  who  it  seems  had 
for  years  lived  near  her,  had  been  constantly 
kind  to  her,  and  interested   in  her   concerns. 


254  EARLY   LESSONS. 

While  she  was  sleeping,  Rosamond,  sitting 
beside  her  bed,  could  talk  in  a  low  voice  to 
Mrs.  Hand,  and  she  made  various  inquiries 
and  arrangements  that  were  necessary  for 
Kate's  journey  to  London. 

In  the  first  place,  Rosamond  asked,  wheth- 
er Mrs.  Hand  would  go  with  her  ? 

'Willingly,'  replied  she,  'only  I  have  a  fam- 
ily of  my  own  to  look  after,  and  my  children's 
and  husband's  meals  must  be  cooked,  and  I 
could  not  stay  away  a  fortnight  from  them.' 

This  Rosamond  easily  settled,  by  offering 
to  pay  a  person  whom  Mrs.  Hand  would  en- 
gage to  find.  All  the  expenses  of  the  journey 
were  next  to  be  calculated  and  provided  for  ; 
this  also  was  accomplished,  though  not  des- 
patched with  such  haste  as  Rosamond  could 
have  wished,  for  Mrs.  Hand  was  mighty  slow 
and  exact,  and  would  not  take  a  penny  more 
than  was  strictly  necessary,  though  Rosamond 
continually  said  it  did  not  signify. 

Next — tiresome  woman  !  she  asked  how 
they  were  to  go  ? 

'  How  !  was  any  thing  easier  than  to  go  to 
London  V  exclaimed  Rosamond. 

'  Nothing  easier,'  said  Mrs. Hand ;  'but  still 
I  must  know  how.  We  may  walk,  or  ride,  or 
go  in  the  wagon,  or  in  some  sort  of  carriage.' 

'  Ride  or  walk,  impossible !'  cried  Rosamond. 
1  Wagon  !  that's  quite  out  of  the  question,  it 
is  so  slow  ;  she  must  go  in  the  coach.' 

'  The  coach  !  What  coach  ?  there  are  so 
many  stages  and  mails,'  said  Mrs.  Hand. 


ROSAMOND.  255 

And  all  the  names  of  these,  and  all  the  pla- 
ces from  whence  they  set  out,  and  at  which 
they  put  up,  and  their  hours  of  setting  out 
and  coming  in,  Mrs.  Hand,  whose  brother 
was  an  innkeeper,  knew  right  well  ;  nor  did 
she  spare  Rosamond  any  one  of  these. 

Much  perplexed,  Rosamond  however,  set- 
ting her  understanding  to  the  business,  at  last 
put  out  of  the  question  all  the  coaches  that 
did  not  go  at  the  right  hours,  that  would  set 
out  before  Kate  could  be  ready,  and  at  length 
came  to  a  just  decision  in  favor  of  a  stage  that 
was  to  set  out  at  six  the  next  morning,  and 
in  which  two  inside  places  could  be  secured. 

1  So  far  so  good,'  quoth  Mrs.  Hand  ;  '  but 
the  next  thing  to  be  considered,  Miss  Rosa- 
mond, is  about  where  we  are  to  go  when  we 
are  set  down.' 

'  Set  down  ?' 

{  Aye,  set  down  in  Lon'on  town.' 

1  Why  is  there  any  thing  easier  than  to  find 
lodging  in  London  when  you  have  money  V 

1  Nothing  easier  than  to  get  lodgings  in 
Lon'on  for  money,  sure  enough,'  Mrs.  Hand 
said  ;  '  but  where  ?  It  would  be  as  well  to  set- 
tle that  before  they  got  to  Lon'on,  because 
Lon'on  is  a  great  town,'  as  Mrs.  H.  observed ; 
'  and  it  is  awkward  to  be  looking  about  late, 
and  not  to  know  where  to  put  one's  head  ; 
just  set  down  at  the  spot  where  the  coach  puts 
up,  in  a  strange  place,  among  strangers,  and 
with  a  poor  helpless  blind  body  to  be  led  in 
the  streets.' 


256  EARLY   LESSONS. 

"Rosamond,  when  thus  pressed,  recollected 
the  very  thing  that  would  do.  Laura's  nurse 
had  married  a  green  grocer  in  London,  and 
they  had  lodgings  to  let ;  and  nurse  was  an 
excellent  creature,  and  would  be  the  very  per- 
son to  take  care  of  Kate  and  make  them  com- 
fortable at  her  house. 

Mrs.  Hand  was  quite  satisfied,  as  well  she 
might  be.     '  But  where  does  she  live  V 

Rosamond  knew  it  was  at  a  green-grocer's. 

1  But  lackaday.  there  are  so  many  green- 
grocers in  Lon'on,'  cried  Mrs.  Hand.  'What 
street  ?  what's  the  number  of  the  house  V 

The  name  of  the  street  had  gone  clear  out 
of  Rosamond's  head,  and  the  number  along 
with  it.  '  Yet,'  as  she  said,  '  she  ought  to 
know  both  perfectly  well,  because  they  so  of- 
ten sent  parcels  there. 

This  however  did  not  mend  the  matter,  or 
help  Mrs.  Hand  to  guess  where  it  might  be. 
But  Rosamond  said  she  was  sure  Laura  could 
tell  them  the  street  and  number  both,  because 
fortunately  she  never  forgot  directions  ;  she 
had  a  direction-book. 

Rosamond  must  next  settle  about  Kate's 
clothes.  Her  neice  Martha,  who  lived  with 
her,  was  in  this  matter  of  great  use  to  Rosa- 
mond, for  she  knew  what  Kate's  clothes  were 
and  where  they  were  ;  and  she  undertook  to 
have  the  two  caps  and  the  three  neckerchiefs 
washed  and  ironed,  and  to  have  all  that  was 
to  go  put  up  nicely  in  a  little  bundle  ;  and 
Rosamond  desired  her  to  set  about  it  directly. 


ROSAMOND.  257 

In  setting  about  it  directly,  she  was  obliged 
to  open  a  closet  door,  close  to  Kate's  bed. 
Now  this  door,  if  opened  boldly,  made  no  noise, 
but  if  opened  by  a  timid  hand  it  creaked  the 
more,  the  more  you  wished  it  not  to  creak. 
And  Martha,  much  afraid  of  wakening  Kate, 
began  without  the  boldness  so  essential  to 
success,  and  creak,  creak,  creak,  screech  went 
the  door,  and  Kate  (no  wonder)  wakened,  and 
starting  up,  said  she  was  sorry  to  be  awake- 
ned from  the  pleasantest  dream  she  ever  had 
in  her  days.  '  She  was  dreaming  that  she 
was  in  a  green  field,  where  she  used  to  drive 
home  the  cows  in  a  summer's  evening  in  her 
youth,  and  she  smelt  and  saw  the  cowslips, 
saw  as  well  as  ever  she  did  in  her  life  :  but 
somehow  it  was  all  in  London.' 

The  word  London  recalled  what  had  pass- 
ed before  she  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  before 
she  had  fainted  ;  and,  as  if  not  yet  clearly  a- 
wake,  asked  who  had  been  there,  and  if  there 
had  not  been  some  talking  of  her  really  going 
to  London,  or  if  it  was  all  only  a  dream  ? 

Rosamond  then  spoke,  and  assured  her  of 
the  truth  of  all  she  remembered.  There  was 
no  difficulty  in  disposing  her  to  undertake  the 
journey  now  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  plain 
that  she  wished  it  eagerly  ;  and  though  she 
every  now  and  then  repeated,  as  if  to  quiet 
herself,  the  same  words  she  had  said  before... 
'  Better  for  me  to  stay  as  I  am.  I  am  settled 
to  it  now.  Best  for  me  not  to  hope  again'.... 
vol.  ii.    22 


258 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


Yet  the  expression  of  her  countenance  was 
so  different  between  the  times  of  these  des- 
ponding sentences,  and  even  in  the  moment 
of  pronouncing  them,  from  what  it  had  been 
before,  that  it  was  obvious  her  mind  had 
changed,  and  that  she  would  have  been  ex- 
ceedingly sorry  to  be  forced  to  give  up  this 
new  feeling  of  hope. 

Rosamond  now  spoke  with  such  good  sense 
and  moderation,  that  she  brought  Kate's  mind 
nearly  to  a  proper  state  between  too  much  and 
too  little  confidence,  with  resolution  sufficient 
to  undertake  the  journey   and   undergo   the 


ROSAMOND.  259 

operation,  yet  without  that  ardent  anticipa- 
tion of  joy,  which,  if  disappointed,  might  be 
dangerous  to  her  health  and  happiness. 

Kate  ended  at  last  with  '  It  is  worth  while, 
surely,  to  go  and  make  the  trial,  since  this 
good  young  lady  can  get  it  done  for  me. 
Bless  her  for  it  !  How  thankful  I  should  be, 
and  happy,  think,  Martha,  to  see  you  and  all 
friends  again.  But,  if  it  is  not  God's  will  that  I 
should  enjoy  my  eyesight  again,  His  will  be 
done.  I  am  resigned,  and  shall  settle  to  my  af- 
fliction again,  with  gratitude  to  you,  dear  Miss.' 

Satisfied  to  have  brought  her  to  this  reason- 
able state,  Rosamond  judiciously  determined 
to  say  no  more,  and  not  to  repeat  what  she 
had  already  said  sufficiently.  This  resolu- 
tion it  might  have  been  as  difficult  to  Rosa- 
mond to  keep  as  it  appears  to  be  to  the  gene- 
rality of  orators  and  moralists ;  but  fortunate- 
ly she  was  not  put  to  any  desperately  long 
trial.  Before  she  had  quite  exhausted  her  re- 
sources in  silence,  before  she  had  arranged 
the  old  bows  of  Kate's  black  bonnet,  so  as  to 
make  them  look  quite  new  for  the  journey, 
her  father  returned,  and  relieved  her  from  the 
danger  of  doing  or  saying  too  much. 

Her  father  approved  of  her  arrangements. 
There  was  no  assistance  wanted  on  his  part, 
except  to  change  her  sixty  pounds  bank  note 
into  cash,  and  into  smaller  notes,  for  the  con- 
venience of  the  journey  ;  and  this  he  went 
home  to  do  immediately  ;  Mrs.  Hand  follow- 
ed them  to  receive  the  money.     The  traveller 


260  EARLY    LESSONS. 

wrote  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  oculist, 
and  Rosamond,  who  now  thought  of  every- 
thing, wrote  down  the  direction  carefully. 
She  furnished  Mrs.  Hand  also  with  a  letter  to 
Laura's  nurse,  and  made  her  read  the  direc- 
tion to  make  sure  of  it — To  Mrs  Bristow, 
No.  43  Boot-lane — 9  doors  from  the  corner,  on 
the  right  hand  side  of  the  street,  she  would 
add,  though  as  this  must  depend,  as  Laura 
observed,  on  the  way  you  came  into  the  lane, 
it  rather  puzzled  than  explained  the  matter  : 
but  now  Rosamond  had  begun  to  be  so  exact, 
she  thought  she  could  never  give  directions 
enough. 

Her  father  advised  her  to  employ  her  time 
in  what  was  more  necessary  than  giving  a  su- 
perfluity of  directions,  in  taking  a  list  of  the 
numbers  of  the  bank  notes  :  with  Laura's  as- 
sistance she  accomplished  this  with  accuracy. 

In  the  morning  Rosamond  was  up  at  six 
o'clock,  and  with  Godfrey  was  at  Kate's  cot- 
tage, ready  to  bid  her  good-bye.  and  see  her 
safely  off.  But  alas,  when  all  were  prepar- 
ed, bundles  and  all,  when  the  coach  came  to 
the  corner  of  the  road  where  they  were  wait- 
ing to  be  taken  up,  the  coachman,  instead  of 
stopping  as  they  expected,  drove  past,  saying 
'  No  places,  no  places,  full,  full.' 

And  when  Godfrey  roared  to  him  to  stop, 
he  only  pulled  up  for  an  instant,  and  repeated 
*  No  places.' 

'  But  two  places  were  taken  last  night.' 

1  Yes,  sir,  by  the  gentlemen  in  the  coach.* 


ROSAMOND. 


261 


A  fat  man  and  a  lean  man  alternately  put 
their  heads  out  of  the  carriage  window  to  con- 
firm what  the  coachman  said  ;  and  without 
waiting  for  further  explanation  drove  on. 

'  But  did  not  yon  send  to  take  the  places, 
Rosamond  V  said  Godfrey. 

'No.' 

Rosamond  had  taken  it  for  granted  that 
Godfrey  or  that  her  father  had  engaged  them. 
But  Godfrey  said  he  had  never  thought  of  it, 
because  Rosamond  had  never  asked  him  to 
do  it  ;  '  and  as  to  my  father/  added  Godfrey, 
'  you  know  he  said  you  were  to  manage  all 
the  business  yourself.' 


262  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  What  shall  we  do  ?'  cried  Rosamond. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done,  Mrs.  Hand 
said,  bat  to  wait  till  next  day,  and  to  be  sure 
to  take  places  this  day. 

'But  poor  Kate!  poor  Kate!'  said  Rosa- 
mond. '  O,  perhaps  she  may  lose  every  thing 
by  this  mistake  of  mine  !  O,  Godfrey,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  Perhaps  the  man,  M.  Maunoir, 
may  have  left  London.  Who  knows  what 
the  delay  of  this  day  may  do  !' 

'Don't  fret,  don't  fret  so,  dear  miss  Rosa- 
mond,' said  Kate,  trying  to  get  over  her  own 
disappointment.  '  I  dare  say  we  shall  not  be 
too  late  to-morrow,  and  if  we  are,  why  I  am 
no  worse  than  I  have  been  this  many  a  day, 
and  many  a  year.  Don't  let  it  grieve  you, 
my  dear.  We  will  go  home,  if  you  will  give 
me  your  arm,  good  Mrs.  Hand,  and  you  can 
see  your  husband  before  you  go,  who  is  to  be 
back  to-day,  which  will  be  a  comfort  to  you, 
and  for  me  there  is  always  Martha  and  the 
children,  and  it  is  only  one  day.  What  dif- 
ference can  it  make,  dear  miss  Rosamond  ? 
Do  not  keep  blaming  yourself  so,  after  giving 
up  your  new  horse  and  all  for  me  !' 

'  Dear,  then  it  is  a  pity  these  places  were 
forgot,  after  all,'  said  Mrs.  Hand  ;  'how  hap- 
pened it,  I  wonder  V 

'  I  know  now  it  happened  very  well,'  said 
Rosamond,  turning  to  Godfrey.  '  I  know  it 
was  all  my  forgetfulness  and  folly.  How 
could  I  be  so  silly  !' 

Godfrey  replied,  that  he  could  not  pretend 


ROSAMOND.  263 

to  answer  that  question.  But  though  he  spoke 
in  a  tone  of  irony,  he  was  so  much  touched 
with  Rosamond's  distress,  candor,  and  peni- 
tence, that  he  swallowed  two  sarcastical  puns 
which  had  been  ready  on  his  lips.  He  fore- 
bore  to  tell  her,  that  between  her  and  Mrs. 
Hand  they  had  made  but  a  bad  hand  of  it. 
He  forebore  to  tell  her  that  she  was  sending 
Kate  to  Boot-lane  on  a  bootless  errand. 

Pensive  and  silent,  Rosamond  retraced  her 
steps  homeward.  As  she  and  Godfrey  crossed 
the  lawn,  out  came  cantering  the  pretty  bay 
horse,  which  the  groom  was  leading  back  to 
its  owner,  as  he  had  been  ordered  to  do  this 
morning. 

1  My  dear  Rosamond,  I  do  pity  you  now.' 

Rosamond  stopped  to  take  a  last  look  at 
the  horse,  and  said,  '  I  am  afraid  it  will  be 
all  in  vain.' 

'  Then  had  not  we  better  stop  the  man,  and 
keep  the  horse  ?  for  if  you  cannot  do  any 
thing  for  the  poor  woman,  do  not  give  up  the 
horse.  If  you  repent,  now  is  your  time  to 
speak.  Every  woman  may  change  her  mind 
three  times  at  the  least,  especially  when  she 
repents.' 

1  No  generous  person  ever  repents  or  changes 
her  mind  about  what  she  has  given,'  said  Ro- 
samond indignantly.  '  No  ;  what  I  repent  of 
is  only  my  folly  ;  and  what  I  was  thinking 

of — what  I  am  thinking  of — is Will  you 

call  to  the  man  and  stop  him  ?' 

Godfrey  roared,  and  the  groom  stopped. 


264 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


Rosamond  suggested,  that  as  this  man  was 
to  pass  through  the  neighboring  town  he  might 
inquire  at  the  inn,  whether  a  post  chaise  and 
post  horses  could  be  had,  as,  if  these  could 
be  obtained,  the  day  would  not  be  lost,  and 
he  should  take  places  for  to-morrow  in  the 
stage,  if  no  chaise  could  be  had  to-day. 

'  Well  thought  of,  Rosamond  !'  Godfrey 
said  he  would  not  trust  the  matter  to  any  one, 
he  would  go  himself,  and  he  would  bring  her 
back  a  chaise,  if  one  could  be  had  for  love  or 
money.  The  groom  dismounted,  Godfrey 
sprang  into  his  seat,  leaving  him  to  convey 
home  the  unpurchased  horse  as  he  might. 

Rosamond,  as  he  galloped  off,  thought,  to 
herself,  '  though  he  does  plague  me  some- 
times, he  is  the  kindest  of  brothers  when  it 
comes  to  good  earnest.' 

An  hour  afterwards  Godfrey  returned  in  a 
chaise,  driving  very  fast. 

'  But  what  strange  man  is  that  along  with 
him  in  the  chaise  ]' 

He  was  a  messenger  going  up  to  London 
express  with  a  prodigiously  fine  turtle,  which 
was  to  arrive  in  time  for  a  great  entertainment 
at  White's.  He  had  taken  the  only  chaise 
that  was  to  be  had,  every  other  being  out  at 
some  races  ;  and  Godfrey,  by  the  joint  force 
of  his  own  eloquence  and  Rosamond's  money, 
which  he  knew  her  well  enough  not  to  spare, 
succeeded  in  prevailing  on  this  man  to  let 
Kate  and  Mrs.  Hand  occupy  the  two  vacant 
places  in  his  chaise.     But  he  could  not  and 


ROSAMOND.  265 

would  not  wait  a  minute.  Nor  was  he  kept 
waiting  one  minute.  Rosamond  had  prudent- 
ly desired  Kate  and  her  guide  to  follow  her 
to  Egerton  Abbey.  Godfrey  jumped  out,  put 
them  into  the  carriage,  and  stowed  their  bun- 
dles after  them,  and  off  they  drove. 

1  Really  gone  !'  cried  Rosamond.  l  Thank 
you,  my  dear  Godfrey,  thank  you  !  I  promise 
you,  that  you  shall  be  the  very  first  person 
that  shall  see  the  letter  which  Mrs.  Hand  has 
engaged  to  write  to  me,  the  very  night  she 
gets  to  London,  or  the  day  afterwards.' 

'  The  day  afterwards  I  hope,'  said  Godfrey, 
1  for  this  operation  can  hardly,  I  should  think,. 
be  performed  upon  Blind  Kate  the  moment 
she  steps  out  of  the  chaise,  the  night  she  gets 
to  town,  and  by  candle-light  too  !  Besides,  do* 
pray  allow  that  poor  chip,  Mrs. Hand,  a  night's 
sleep  before  she  pens  this  letter.  I  am  sure^ 
penning  a  letter  will  be  laborious  work  to  her.' 

It  was  a  laborious  work  to  her,  no  doubt ; 
but  as  Rosamond  had  laid  great  stress  upon 
her  writing  as  soon  as  possible,  if  it  were  only 
one  line,  Mrs.  Hand,  faithful  to  her  promise, 
wrote  the  night  of  her  arrival,  and  her  letter 
was  as  follows  : 

Honored  Miss, 

Being-  as  you  desired,  I  write  to  tell  you  that 

I  have  nothing  to  say  yet ;  at  best  not  being  to 

see  the  gentleman  with  the  letter  till  morning. 

The  people  of  this  house  very  civil,  but  knows 

vol.  ii.        23 


266  EARLY    LESSONS. 

nothing  of  him.  Whether  gone  out  of  town 
or  not  carit  say  till  morning.  If  so  be  that  he 
is  not  gone,  shall  see  him  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  till  when  with  Kate's  duty  to  all, 
who  is  asleep  thank  God  and  purely,  am 
honored  miss, 
yours  to  command  till  morning 

Betty  Hand. 

1  Rosamond,  my  dear,  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you  for  the  privilege  of  seeing  this  letter 
first,'  said  Godfrey  ;  '  but  I  should  have  been 
more  obliged  if  there  had  been  any  thing  in 
it.  This  comes  of  insisting  upon  poor  people 
or  rich  people  writing  the  instant  they  arrive. 
Would  it  not  be  better  to  let  them  wait  till 
they  have  something  to  say?  or  at  least  till 
they  have  slept  off  their  stupidity — till  morn- 
ing, as  Mrs.  Hand  says  V 

Another  and  another  post  came,  and  anoth- 
er and  another,  and  no  letter  for  Rosamond. 
Ten  days  passed,  but  on  the  eleventh  morn- 
ing Godfrey  entered  the  breakfast  room,  hold- 
ing a  letter  far  above  his  head.  Higher  than 
ever  dancing-master  made  her  spring,  Rosa- 
mond sprang  up,  seized  it,  tore  it  open,  and 
saw  these  words  in  large  scrawling  writing, 
which  filled  the  whole  page,  from  corner  to 
corner : 

My  sight  is  restored,  thank  God  !  Written 
by  me  this  15th  September. 

Rosamond,  happy  beyond  expression,  with- 


ROSAMOND. 


267 


out  uttering  a  syllable,  took  this  paper  to  her 
father,  and  to  her  mother,  and  to  Mrs.  Eger- 
ton — to  each  and  all  of  her  friends,  not  forget- 
ting the  traveller.  All  congratulated  her, 
and  sympathized  in  her  joy.  At  the  bottom 
of  the  page  were,  in  small  good,  but  childish 
hand-writing,  the  words,    Turn  over. 

1  The  rest  of  the  letter  of  three  pages  is 
written  by  nurse's  daughter,'  said  Rosamond, 
turning  to  Laura,  '  whom  you  taught  long 
ago  to  write.     Little  did  we  think' 

The  rest  of  her  moral  reflection  was  lost  in 
empty  air.     The  boiling  water  from  the   urn 


268  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ran  over  the  table, for  Laura  had  forgotten  to 
stop  it  as  she  rose  to  look  at  the  writing.  This 
being  set  to  rights  by  Mrs.  Egerton,  and  no- 
body scalded,  and  Rosamond  in  the  mean  time 
having  glanced  her  eyes  over  the  letter  which 
was  dictated  by  Kate,  she  put  it  into  her 
brother's  hands,  remembering  her  promise, 
that  he  should  have  the  first  reading  of  the 
first  good  news.     He  read  as  follows  : — 

To  my  dear  good  young  lady,  who,  after  God, 
I  have  to  thank  for  this  great  happiness. 

I  hope,  my  dear  miss  Rosamond,  yon  was 
not  uneasy  at  not  hearing  on  Tuesday,  which 
was  my  faidt,  for  I  would  not  let  Mrs.  Hand 
or  Ellen  Bristoio  write  till  I  could  pen  the 
first  words  of  this  letter  my  own  self.  The 
gentleman  ivas  to  have  set  out  the  day  we  saw 
him,  but  was  so  kind  as  to  stay  for  us.  I  was 
not  alloiued  to  do  any  thing  till  this  morning, 
for  fear  of  hurting  myself  so  soon  after  the 
operation,  but  which  did  not  deserve  to  be  so 
called,  as  it  was  no  more  pain  than  the  prick 
of  a  pin,  and  so  quick,  I  cannot  well  tell  what 
it  was  like. 

But,  as  you  desired  me  to  be  particular,  may 
mention,  that  it  ivas,  to  my  mind,  like  a  stretch- 
ing and  lifting  up  of  a  great  weight  ;  and 
that,  being  taken  off,  on  a  sudden,  like  a  shot, 
came  back  my  eyesight  ;  and  for  the  first 
time  these  nine  years,  I  saw  the  daylight,  and 
could  not   believe,  at  first,  but  it  was  a  flash, 


ROSAMOND.  269 

and  would  go  again  from  me.     Thank  God! 
no  such  thing  happened. 

The  gentleman  bid  me  say  what  I  saio,  if  I 
saw  any  thing  before  my  eyes.  I  answered 
that  I  saw  three  or  four  small  branches,  which 
were  the  fingers  of  his  hand  that  he  held  up 
between  me  and  the  light,  as  I  afterxvards 
found.  So  he  bound  up  my  eyes,  saying  it 
was  all  well,  only  I  must  be  kept  quiet  for 
some  days  ;  and  he  ivas  very  glad  to  see  me 
so  happy  and  thankful. 

But,  ma'am,  I  should  have  told  you  in  the 
beginning,  as  you  desired  me  to  describe  the 
gentleman,  that  he  is  a  very  kind  spoken  gen- 
tleman, and  speaks  English  so,  that  at  the  first 
I  did  not  know  he  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
born  a  foreigner.  And  no  Englishman  born 
could  have  spoke  more  tender,  or  behaved  more 
generous  to  the  poor  blind  woman  {as  I  was 
then?)  lie  would  not  take  half,  nor  a  quarter, 
of  what  you  thought  and  intended  for  him. 
So  little  indeed  does  it  come  to  altogether,  that 
we  could  very  well  struggle  and  make  it  out 
among  ourselves,  when  the  sheep  is  sold  ;  for 
it  is  a  great  pity  and  trouble  to  me,  to  think 
that  you  should  give  up  that  fine  horse,  my 
dear  miss  Rosamond.  Oh  !  the  trot  of  that 
horse  was  going  on  in  my  ears  all  night, 
whenever  I  was  falling  asleep. 

Please  give  my  love  to  all  at  home,  particu- 
larly Martha,  and  please  to  tell  her  that  I  had 
all  right.  We  have  every  thing  hospitable 
and  comfortable  here,  as  if  we  were  princesses > 


270  EARLY    LESSONS. 

in  your  good  nurse's  house,  who  is  (as  is  naU 
ural)  very  fond  of  you  and  yours,  and  I  of 
her  and  hers,  especially  of  the  daughter  that 
now  holds  the  pen  for  me,  and  has  as  they 
call  it  the  pen  of  a  ready  ivriter.  Thanks  to 
Laura,  (interlined.) 

This  day  eight  days,  please  God,  the  gen- 
tleman says  if  nothing  happens  to  check  me, 
1  may  set  out  on  my  journey  homeward,  and 
all  bandages  are  to  be  taken  off,  and  I  shall 
see  as  well  as  ever  !  I  am  sure  I  can  never 
be  thankful  enough,  dear  miss  Rosamond,  but 
will  say  no  more,  hoping  you  vnll  not  be  dis- 
pleased by  what  I  said  about  the  horse,  and 
begging  just  one  line  about  it.  I  am,  my  dear 
good  young  lady,  in  haste  to  conclude,lest  should 
miss  again  this  post,  your  very  dutiful  and 

loving  Kate,  no  longer  Blind  Kate. 

No  one  who  knows  Rosamond  can,  we 
trust,  imagine  that  she  would  take  back  what 
she  gave,  or  let  the  sheep  be  sold  to  regain  the 
horse,  however  bright  its  bay,  or  black  its 
mane.  She  answered  so  as  to  show  that  it 
must  never  more  be  thought  of;  and  yet  that 
she  was  not  displeased  at  its  having  been  sug- 
gested by  the  scrupulous  honesty  and  grati- 
tude of  Kate. 

'  Kate,  no  longer  Blind  Kate' — these  words 
sounded  so  delightfully,  that  Rosamond  could 
not  forbear  often  repeating  them  aloud  to  her- 
self in  the  course  of  the  day.  Her  imagina- 
tion,  always  lively,  became   ardently  fixed 


ROSAMOND.  271 

upon  the  idea  of  all  that  would  happen  on  the 
day  and  hour  when  this  poor  woman  should 
return  to  her  family. 

Her  father  found  her  sitting  one  morning 
with  her  work  hanging  from  her  lap,  with 
her  eyes  fixed,  and  in  so  deep  a  reverie  that 
she  did  not  perceive  he  was  near  her,  till  he 
put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder.  Then  she 
started  up,  and  in  answer  to  her  father's  look, 
which  seemed  to  ask  what  she  was  thinking 
of,  she  replied, 

'  I  was  thinking  only  of  Blind  Kate,  father, 
that  is,  of  Kate  that  is  no  longer  blind.' 

'  And  may  I  ask  what  you  were  thinking 
of  her  1  What  castles  in  Spain  were  you  buil- 
ding for  Kate  or  for  yourself?' 

■  I  was  not  building  any  castles,  father  ; 
quite  the  contrary.' 

'  The  contrary  !  Pulling  down  castles  then 
that  you  had  formed?' 

'  No,  nothing  about  castles,  only  about  cot- 
tages. I  was  imagining  to  myself  exactly 
how  it  will  all  be  on  Tuesday  next  when  Kate 
is  to  return  to  her  cottage.  I  think  I  see  her 
and  all  the  children,  and  hear  every  word  and 
look.' 

'  And  then  if  the  reality  does  not  come  up 
to  these  your  bright  imaginations,  how  disap- 
pointed you  will  be,  poor  Rosamond.  You 
know  how  often  that  has  happened  to  you  in 
other  cases  ?  Do  you  recollect  V 

1  O  yes,  father,  I  recollect  perfectly  ;  you 
need  not  tell  me  of  it ;  but  this  is  a  different 


272  EARLY   LESSONS. 

affair.  I  do  not  think  I  can  be  disappointed 
here.  In  general,  what  you  say  is  true,  but 
not  in  this  instance,  I  think.' 

S  So,  instead  of  judging  by  what  she  has 
felt,  or  by  general  rules  founded  on  general 
experience,  my  wise  daughter  thinks  it  pru- 
dent, or  at  least  convenient,  to  make  for  her- 
self a  particular  exception  in  each  case.' 

'  No,  no,'  said  Rosamond.  '  But  what 
harm  can  it  do  me  to  form  bright  imagina- 
tions ?  You  know,  even  if  I  am  disappointed 
at  last  in  the  reality,  I  have  had  secure  all  the 
pleasure  of  the  anticipation,  and  of  the  happy 
imaginations.' 

1  But  you  will  consider  that  the  happy  im- 
aginations pass  away,  and  the  realities,  what- 
ever they  are,  remain ;  and  if  your  bright 
imaginations  make  you  discontented  with  dull 
realities,  you  will  have  but  a  bad  chance  for 
happiness  in  this  world.  For  instance,  if  you 
imagine  the  gratitude  of  this  poor  woman, 
and  represent  to  yourself  her  words  and  ges- 
tures, or  manner  ;  perhaps  you  may  be  dis- 
gusted afterwards  by  her  homely  expressions, 
and  you  would  become  less  kind  to  her,  or,  at 
least,  your  kindness  would  cost  you  more  ef- 
fort. Those,  who  induldge  in  these  fine  rev- 
eries, when  they  waken  from  them,  find,  that 
the  plain  truth  seldom  is  equal  to,  or  rather 
seldom  resembles  accurately  any  picturesque 
or  dramatic,  or  romantic  description,  or  any 
previous  picture  drawn  by  the  fancy.' 

1  That  is  possible — that  is  very  likely,'  said 


ROSAMOND.  273 

Rosamond  ;  '  so  I  will  try  not  to  imagine  any- 
more about  the  matter  ;  and  I  will  put  away 
my  work,  for  I  cannot  help  falling  into  these 
reveries  when  I  am  at  work,  and  have  noth- 
ing else  to  employ  my  thoughts.' 

Rosamond  next  amused  herself  by  going 
round  the  library,  searching  out  every  poem 
or  novel  or  tale,  in  which  there  was  any  des- 
cription of  the  feelings  of  the  blind,  beginning 
with  Milton's  beautiful  lamentation  on  his 
blindness,  and  ending  with  Madame  de  Gen- 
lis'  Aveugle  de  Spa,  Madame  de  Montolieu's 
charming  Leonora  Aveugle,  and  the  interest- 
ing Blind  Child  without  a  name.  Rosamond 
collected  these  and  many  more  on  the  table, 
and  read  them  with  an  avidity  which  left  no 
leisure  for  comparison  of  their  merits.  Her 
father  looked  over  some  of  them  again  with 
her,  and  pointed  out,  or  rather  excited  her  to 
consider  and  judge  of  what  was  natural,  or 
what  was  exaggerated  in  expression  or  des- 
cription. And  he  observed,  that  many  of  the 
heroines  of  romance  speak  in  language  too 
refined  for  their  conditions  in  life. 

'I  acknowledge,  father,'  said  she,  '  that  it  is 
not  very  likely  that  all  this  should  be  said  ov- 
er again,  especially  by  our  poor  Kate.  And 
I  might,  as  you  say,  be  disappointed,  though 
I  could  not  be  so  unjust  or  absurd  as  to  be  an- 
gry with  her  for  not  being  as  poetical  or  ele- 
gant or  sentimental  as  these.' 

In  truth  and  science  there  is  always  safe 
and  interesting  employment  for  the  minds  of 


274  EARLY    LESSONS. 

young  people  of  ardent  imaginations  ;  and  on 
every  occasion  Rosamond's  father  endeavored 
to  turn  her  attention  from  fiction  to  reality. 
She  read  with  him  Chesclderts  account  of  the 
blind  boy  couched  for  the  cataract,  and  vari- 
ous other  narratives  of  this  kind  ;  searched  in 
every  Cyclopedia  for  the  articles  blindness^ 
cataract,  couching,  &c.  and  acquired  all  the 
information  she  could  upon  this  subject  while 
her  interest  was  awakened,  and  gave  motive 
for  application. 

'  Thursday,  Friday,  Saturday,'  said  Rosa- 
mond ;  '  during  these  three  last  days  I  have 
never  once  indulged  myself,  father,  in  any  an- 
ticipations or  fancy  pictures  ;  and  now  here  is 
a  letter  from  Kate  to  tell  me  that  she  will  not 
come  on  Tuesday  ;  that  is,  not  unless  I  de- 
sire it  particularly.  She  has  not  been  so  well 
as  she  was,  and  she  is  advised  to  go  to  bathe 
in  the  sea.  She  has  plenty  of  money  left, 
that's  one  good  thing.  But  then  she  will  not 
return  here  till  we  have  left  Egerton  Abbey, 
and  I  shall  lose  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her.' 

It  was  a  disappointment  ! 

It  would  have  been  a  much  greater  disap- 
pointment to  Rosamond,  but  for  her  prudent 
forbearance  from  bright  anticipations  during 
the  preceding  Thursday,  Friday,  Saturday. 
Nor  did  her  prudence  on  this  occasion  tend  to 
lessen,  but  rather  to  increase  her  generosity  ; 
for  now  she  never  hesitated  between  the  en- 
joyment she  might  have  had  in  seeing  the 
happiness  she  had  caused,  and  the  real  bene- 


ROSAMOND.  275 

fit  to  the  poor  woman's  health,  which  was  to 
be  expected  from  the  delaying  her  return. 


THE  PRINT  GALLERY. 


1  My  dear  Godfrey  !'  exclaimed  Rosamond, 
as  her  brother  came  into  the  room  one  morn- 
ing, '  how  terribly  tired  you  look  !  and,  beg- 
ging your  pardon,  if  one  might  say  so.  Mrs. 
Egerton,  without  offending  against  'domestic 
politeness,'  how  uncommonly  stupid  he  looks.' 

'  The  word  uncommonly  saves  you,'  said 
Mrs.  Egerton. 

'  I  may  well  look  stupid/  said  he.  '  I  am 
indeed  quite  stu pitied,  I  have  been  studying 
so  hard  V 

*  What  have  you  been  studying  V 

1  Greek  and  Latin,'  replied  Godfrey,  '  and 
grand  things  that  gentlemen  cannot  be  gentle- 
men without  knowing.' 

'  'Tis  a  pity  then  they  are  so  tiresome  to 
gentlemen,'  said  Rosamond. 

1  Tiresome  !  my  dear,'  cried  Godfrey  in  an 
awakened  tone—'  tiresome  only  to  learn,  not 
tiresome  to  know.  So  pray,  Rosamond,  tho' 
I  may  look  uncommonly  -stupid,  and  though  I 
own  I  have  oeen  uncommonly  dull  in  making 


276  EARLY    LESSONS. 

out  an  uncommonly  difficult  passage,  yet  do 
not  fancy  that  I  am  like  your  old  partner, 
young  Heavysides,  and  that  I  pronounce  Ho- 
mer and  Horace,  and  classical  literature,  '  al- 
together a  bore.'  But,  '  dulce  est  d'tssipere' — 
I  beg  pardon.  I  won't  quote  Latin  to  ladies, 
as  Folliott  Brown  would  say.' 

1  What  is  become  of  him,  and  of  all  the 
Browns,  I  wonder  V  said  Rosamond. 

'  They  are  all  abroad,  in  France  I  believe/ 
said  Godfrey  ;  '  but  Folliott  has  dropped  my 
correspondence  long  since.  I  have  heard  no- 
thing of  them  this  great  while.  Do  you  know 
any  thing  of  them,  Mrs.  Egerton  V 

'  Yes  ;  but  as  I  can  tell  you  no  good,  ex- 
cuse me  from  saying  any  thing.' 

Then  turning  to  Laura,  who  had  been  play- 
ing on  the  pianoforte  before  Godfrey  came  in- 
to the  room,  she  begged  her  to  sing  again  the 
pretty  song  that  she  and  Rosamond  had  been 
singing. 

'  Yes,  pray  do,'  said  Godfrey,  '  music  is  re- 
freshing when  one  is  tired.' 

'  Yes,  and  so  useful  in  changing  the  course 
of  thought,  and  turning  the  attention  from 
any  thing  tiresome  to  something  new,'  said 
Rosamond. 

'  And  when  one  can  have  it  without  any 
trouble,  and  just  for  asking  once  for  it,'  said 
Godfrey,  going  to  the  instrument.  '  What  I 
like  about  Laura's  voice  and  music  is,  that 
they  are  always  ready,  and  at  the  service  of 
her  friends,  and  she  does  not  tell   you   she  is 


ROSAMOND.  277 

not  in  voice,  or  that  this  does  not  suit  her,  or 
the  other  does  not  suit  her,  or  that  she  never 
plays  in  the  morning,  0*  that  she  has  not  some 
particular  music  book  with  her,  or  that  she 
has  forgotten  the  words,  or  the  tune,  of  every 
song  you  ask  for,  Italian  or  English,  but  es- 
pecially English.  Now,' continued  he,  'there 
is  some  satisfaction  in  Laura's  obliging  way 
of  playing,  though,  I  dare  say,  judges  would 
tell  me,  she  does  not  play  half  as  well  as  half 
the  young  lady  professors,  and  plagues.' 

'  After  this  compliment,'  said  Laura,  '  I  am 
bound  to  sing  and  play  for  you  whatever  you 
please.' 

'  Then  begin  with  my  favorite,'  said  God- 
frey, '  The  Son  of  Alknomook.'  ' 

Godfrey,  with  enthusiasm,  joined  Laura  as 
she  played  and  sung — 

The  sun  sets  in  night,  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains  when  their  light  fades  away. 
Begin,  ye  tormentors,  your  threats  are  in  vain  ; 
The  son  of  Alknomook  will  never  complain. 

Remember  the  arrows  he  shot  from  his  bow  ; 
Remember  your  chiefs  by  his  hatchet  laid  low. 
Why  so  slow  ?    Do  you  wait  till  I  shrink  from  the  pain? 
The  son  of  Alknomook  will  never  complain. 

1  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  is  gone  ; 
His  ghost  shall  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son. 
Death  comes,  like  a  friend,  to  relieve  me  from  pain  ; 
And  thy  son,  O  Alknomook  !  has  scorned  to  complain. 

Godfrey  thought  this  was  the  real  death- 
song  of  an  Indian  chief,    and   was   surprised 


278  EARLY   LESSONS. 

when  Mrs.  Egerton  assured  him,  that  these 
lines  were  written  by  an  English  lady. 

Godfrey  would  not  believe  it  ;  he  said  it 
might  be  a  lady's  translation,  and  he  ac- 
knowledged that  it  was  a  most  spirited  trans- 
lation ;  but  he  was  sure  it  could  not  be  any 
woman's  original  composition.' 

Mrs.  Egerton  took  down  a  small  volume  of 
poems  from  the  bookcase,  and  showed  God- 
frey '  The  Son  of  Alknomook,'  and  the  fol- 
lowing note  at  the  end  of  it,  which  flashed 
conviction  in  his  face  : — 

(  The  idea  of  this  ballad  was  sugge&ted,  sev- 
eral years  ago,  by  hearing  a  gentleman,  Avho 
had  resided  many  years  in  America,  among 
the  tribe  called  the  Cherokees,  sing  a  wild  air, 
which  he  assured  me  it  was  customary  for 
those  people  to  chaunt  with  a  barbarous  jar- 
gon, implying  contempt  for  their  enemies  in  the 
moments  of  torture  and  death.  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  give  something  of  the  characteristic 
spirit  and  sentiment  of  those  brave  savages.' 

1 1 !  but  who  is  she  V  interrupted  Godfrey. 

*  The  widow  of  the  celebrated  John  Hunter. 
In  this  little  book  there  are  some  lines  of  hers 
in  a  different  style,'  continued  Mrs.  Egerton, 
1  which  I  like  particularly.  But  they  are 
perhaps  too  serious  to  please  your  young  taste 
as  well  as  they  do  mine., 

Nevertheless,  the  young  people  unanimously 
desired  to  hear  them,  and  Mrs.  Egerton  read 
aloud,  from  a  poem  addressed  to  '  A  friend  on 
New  Year's  Day,'  the  following  lines  : — 


ROSAMOND.  279 

Sudden  to  cease,  or  gently  to  decline, 

O,  Power  of  Mercy  !  may  the  lot  be  mine  : 

Let  me  not  linger  on  the  verge  of  fate, 

Nor  weary  duty  to  its  utmost  date  ; 

Losing,  in  pain's  impatient  gloom  confined, 

Freedom  of  thought,  and  dignity  of  mind  ; 

Till  pity  views,  untouched,  the  parting  breath, 

And  cold  indifference  adds  a  pang  to  death. 

Yet,  if  to  suffer  long  my  doom  is  pass'd, 

Let  me  preserve  this  temper  to  the  last. 

O  let  me  still  from  self  my  feelings  bear, 

To  sympathize  with  sorrow's  starting  tear  ; 

Nor  sadden  at  the  smile  which  joy  bestows, 

Though  far  from  me  her  beam  ethereal  glows. 

Let  me  remember  in  the  gloom  of  age, 

To  smile  at  follies  happier  youth  engage, 

See  them  fallacious,  but  indulgent  spare 

The  fairy  dreams  experience  cannot  share  : 

Nor  view  the  rising  morn  with  jaundiced  eye, 

Because,  for  me,  no  more  the  sparkling  moments  fly. 

These  lines  touched  Rosamond  particularly, 
because  she  felt  how  strongly  they  were  ap- 
plicable to  Mrs.  Egerton  herself,  whose  amia- 
ble temper  made  her,  in  age,  ever  ready  to 
sympathize  with  the  follies  and  pleasures  of 
youth.  Some  other  serious  reflections,  excited 
in  Rosamond's  mind,  made  her  silent  for  sev- 
eral minutes.  These  reflections  were  inter- 
rupted by  Dr.  Egerton's  summoning  them  all 
to  look  at  some  new  engravings,  which  he  was 
putting  up  in  the  print  gallery.  In  this  gal- 
lery he  had  a  collection  of  the  portraits  of  cel- 
ebrated people,  with  many  of  whom  Rosamond 
was  well  acquainted  ;  but  she  now  consider- 
ed them  in  a  new  point  of  view  ;  and,  recur- 


280  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ring  to  the  reflections  in  which  she  had  just 
been  interrupted,  she  observed  to  Laura,  how 
few  of  these  great  people  had  been  happy 
both  in  youth  and  age.  While  Rosamond 
was  reviewing  these  portraits,  Godfrey  asked 
her  this  puzzling  question  : 

c  Which  of  all  the  women  most  famed  in 
ancient  or  modern  history  would  you  rather 
have  been  V 

'What  an  immense  question  !'  said  Rosa- 
mond. '  I  don" t  know  where  to  begin.  How 
far  am  I  to  go  back  1  In  ancient  history,  let 
me  see,  there  is  old  Pe-nel-o-pe." 

'  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  she  did  right  a- 
bout  the  suitors,'  said  Godfrey.  c  She  might 
I  think  have  got  rid  of  those  gentlemen  soon- 
er ;  indeed  I  do  not  know  why  she  let  them 
come  at  all.' 

'  O,  Godfrey,  let  poor  Penelope  pass  with- 
out scandal,'  said  Laura. 

'  Yet  upon  the  whole  I  would  rather  be  An- 
drom-a-che  than  Penelope,'  said  Rosamond, 
moving  to  the  print  of  Andromache  and  Hec- 
tor. '  As  far  as  I  know,  Andromache  was 
perfect.  But  then  I  know  but  little  of  her,  or 
of  any  of  these  ancient  heroines.' 

1  My  dear,  that  is  your  own  fault,  for  even 
you  ladies  may  know  a  good  deal  of  these  an- 
cient heroines,  as  you  call  them,  from  the 
translations  of  Soph-o-cles,  Eu-rip-i-des,  and 
Es-chy-lus.' 

1  Not  enough  to  judge  of  their  characters 
entirely,'  continued  Rosamond.  '  And  though 


ROSAMOND.  281 

I  admire  Iphigenia  exceedingly,  and  still  more 
An-tig-o-ne,  and  though  some  others  are  very 
grand,  yet  still  their  ways  of  life,  and  their 
ideas  of  virtue,  and  their  religion,  were  so 
different  from  ours,  that  I  can't  judge  of  them 
rightly.  I  could  not  wish  to  be  any  of  these 
heroines.' 

'  Then  go  on  to  the  Roman  history,'  said 
Godfrey.  '  There  are  Lucretia,  and  Virginia, 
and  the  heroic  Portia,  who  wounded  herself 
to  prove  to  her  husband  that  she  deserved  his 
confidence,  and  afterwards  swallowed  burn- 
ing coals,  like  a  worthy  daughter  of  Cato. 
And  Arria,  who  bled  to  death  with  her  hus- 
band, and  set  him  the  example,  you  know  1 

When  Arria  from  her  bleeding  side 
Withdrew  the  reeking  steel, 
I  feel  not  what  I  do,  she  cried  ; 
What  Paetus  has  to  do  I  feel. 

1  But,  brother,  I  should  not  like  to  have 
been  any  of  these  stabbed  or  stabbing  women, 
said  Rosamond. 

'  The  Roman  ladies  were  not  all  stabbing 
women,'  said  Godfrey.  '  There  never  would 
have  been  Roman  citizens,  if  there  had  not 
been  Roman  matrons.  What  do  you  think  of 
the  wife  and  mother  of  Coriolanus  ?  or  Cor- 
nelia, the  mother  of  the  Gracchi?  or  the  gen- 
tle Octavia,  who  sacrificed  her  private  feel- 
ings to  the  peace  of  mankind  V 

1  Octavia  was  very  good  to  her  husband, 
vol.  ii.    24 


EARLY   LESSONS. 


and  Cornelia  was  very  good  to  her  children, 
and  I  admire  her  speech  about  her  diamonds. 
But  before  I  decide  to  be  a  Roman  matron, 
let  me  think  of  some  celebrated  people  in  mod- 
ern history.  I  do  not  think  I  could  well  turn 
into  an  ancient  Roman  matron.' 

'.What  think  you  of  being  Catherine  the 
First  of  Russia,'  said  Godfrey,  '  the  wife  of 
Peter  the  Great  of  Russia  7  Pray,  Rosamond, 
come  here  and  look  at  her.  Here  she  is,'  con- 
tinued he,  reading  what  was  written  at  the 
bottom  of  the  print  of  her  portrait.  '  The 
empress  Catherine,  in  the  habit  in  which  she 
appeared  at  the  head  of  her  own  regiment.' 
Admire  her,  with  her  sword  in  one  hand  and 


ROSAMOND.  283 

her  truncheon  in  the  other,  and  that  cocked 
hat,  wrong  corner  foremost,  on  her  forehead, 
a  cockade  on  one  side,  and  her  military  plume 
on  the  other.' 

£  What  a  figure  !'  exclaimed  Rosamond. 
1  More  like  a  man  than  a  woman.  Her  hair 
frizzled  out  under  the  cocked  hat  like  a  bob- 
wig,  and  the  long-waisted  riding  habit,  with 
its  skirts  like  a  man's  coat.  I  never  saw 
such  an  odd  figure,  such  an  odd  dress  !' 

'  The  dress  might  be  easily  altered,'  said 
Laura,  £  so  we  need  not  mind  that.' 

'  True,'  said  Rosamond,  '  it  is  not  the  ques- 
tion whether  I  would  have  her  dress,  but  her 
character ;  and  she  had  a  noble  character  and 
great  abilities.' 

1  Yes,'  said  Godfrey  ;  '  I  remember  that  one 
night,  before  some  famous  battle,  when  Peter 
had  retired  to  his  tent  in  despair,  and  had  for- 
bidden any  body  to  approach  him,  she  ventu- 
red in,  to  suggest  some  expedient  by  which, 
as  he  afterwards  acknowledged,  she  saved 
him  and  two-and-twenty-thousand  men.' 

'  Two-and-twenty-thousand  !'  repeated  Ro- 
samond. '  Think  of  the  presence  of  mind 
and  courage  of  one  person  saving  so  many  ! 
How  I  should  have  liked  to  be  that  one  per- 
son !  But  are  we  sure  it  is  true,  Dr.  Egerton  V 

1  We  have  as  good  evidence  for  it  as  we  can 
have  for  any  thing  in  history.  We  have  it 
under  the  hand  writing  of  Czar  Peter  himself.' 

1  Yes,'  said  Laura,  '  do  not  you  recollect, 
Rosamond,  our  reading  that  character  which 


284 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


her  husband  wrote  with  his  own  hand  of  Ca- 
therine, in  which  he  says  too  that  '  she  knew 
how  to  soothe  his  most  violent  passions  into 
an  absolute  calm.'  Those  were  the  very 
words.  She  always  used  to  intercede  for  the 
innocent,  and  saved  the  lives  of  many,  whom 
he  in  his  fits  of  fury  had  condemned  to  death ; 
and  sometimes,  in  begging  for  mercy  for  them, 
she  ran  great  danger  herself.  She  was  a  most 
courageous,  noble-minded  person,  fit  to  be  the 
wife  of  Peter  the  Great.  I  should  like  to  have 
had  her  character,  but  not  to  have  been  in 
her  place.  I  should  not  like  to  have  been 
the  wife  of  Peter  the  passionate.' 

1  But.  after  all,'  said  Rosamond,  '  the  Cath- 
erine you  are  talking  of  was  not  Catherine 
the  Great.     Here  is  Catherine  the  Great.' 

1  Yes,  but  as  she  was  not  Catherine  the 
Good,  we  had  better,  on  the  present  occasion, 
pass  her  by,'  said  Godfrey.  '  Here's  Maria 
Theresa — what  do  you  think  of  her  V 

4  O,  I  recollect  WraxalFs  description  of  Ma- 
ria Theresa  presenting  her  son  to  the  states 
of  Hungary — beautiful  !  If  I  were  forced  to 
be  an  empress,  I  should  like  to  have  been  Ma- 
ria Theresa  ;  but  I.  would  rather  be  a  private 
person.' 

'  Well,  here  is  an  abdicated  queen,  Chris- 
tina of  Sweden  ;  would  you  like  to  have  been 
her?' 

1  No,  indeed,'  said  Rosamond,  '  though  she 
was  daughter  of  your  dear  Gustavus  Yasa. 
She  had  a  great  deal  of  pedantry  and  vanity,  , 


ROSAMOND.  285 

and  as  soon  as  she  had  abdicated  she  repent- 
ed of  it.  She  could  neither  be  a  private  per- 
son nor  a  queen.  I  can't  think  any  one  great 
who  has  so  little  steadiness.  Besides,  recol- 
lect the  execution — some  say  the  murder — of 
her  chancellor.  I  would  not  be  Christina  on 
any  account.' 

'  I  think  you  are  right,'  said  Godfrey ;  'she 
was  very  unlike  her  father.  Who  have  you 
got  to  there  1  Eleanor  of  England,  queen  of 
Edward  the  First,  who  sucked  the  poison 
from  her  husband's  wound  ;  yes,  now  you 
have  it  ;  you  will  be  queen  at  last.' 

Rosamond  paused,  said  she  admired  Elean- 
or very  much  ;  she  liked  her  the  best  of  all 
the  queens  that  had  been  mentioned,  but  still 
could  not  decide  to  be  Queen  Eleanor,  because 
she  knew  but  this  one  action  of  hers,  and  she 
did  not  know  what  she  was  inevery-day  life.' 

1  That  is  a  sensible  consideration,'  said  Mrs 
Egerton,  '  for  we  read  in  history  of  many  peo- 
ple remarkable  for  one  fine  action,  who  might 
have  been  unamiable  characters  in  common 
life.' 

'  I  could  however  mention  to  you  many  ex- 
amples of  women  of  distinguished  merit  in 
times  of  trial  and  difficulty,  who  at  the  same 
time  possessed  the  most  amiable  domestic  ac- 
complishments,' said  Dr.  Egerton.  '  When 
you  return  to  the  library,  I  will  show  you, 
for  instance,  an  interesting  account  of  the  La- 
dy Griselda  Baillie.' 

i  I  know  it — I  read  it  yesterday,'  said  Ros- 


286  EARLY   LESSONS. 

amond.  '  You  mean  the  story  of  the  daugh- 
ter, who,  when  she  was  a  child  of  twelve  years 
old,  was  trusted  with  the  secret  about  the 
place  of  her  father's  concealment;  and  who 
kept  the  secret  so  well,  and  who  conquered  her 
own  foolish  fears  about  crossing  the  church- 
yard in  the  dark,  and  used  to  go  every  night 
to  carry  his  food  to  him.  O,  I  remember  ev- 
ery particular — about  the  sheep's  head  that 
vanished  one  day  at  dinner — and  the  little 
brother  who  had  nearly  betrayed  all.  And 
then  her  being  the  delight  and  support  of  her 
family  for  so  many  years  in  poverty  and  ex- 
ile. She  was  a  charming  creature.  I  will 
be  Griselda  Baillie,  I  think.' 

c  But  the  time  of  civil  troubles,  and  hiding 
in  caves,  are  past,'  added  she,  sighing. 

1  You  need  not  sigh  for  want  of  troubles, 
and  dangers,  and  heroines,  in  our  own  times,' 
said  Mrs.  Egerton. 

1  But  did  you  ever  know,  that  is,  know  to 
your  own  knowledge,  in  our  own  times,  such 
a  heroine  as  Griselda  Baillie  V 

1  Yes,  I  knew  Lady  Harriet  Ackland,  who 
went  through  such  hardships  at  the  time  of 
the  American  war,  and  who  had  the  happi- 
ness of  saving  her  husband's  life  by  her  own 
exertions.' 

'O  tell  me  that !'  said  Rosamond. 

( I  will  show  it  to  you,'  said  Godfrey,  '  in 
the  Annual  Register ;  I  know  where  it  is.' 

1  And  during  the  troubles  in  France,'  coi> 


ROSAMOND.  287 

tinued  Dr.  Egerton,  ( there  were  many  exam- 
ples of  amiable  female  heroines.' 

c  O,  but  if  we  go  into  the  troubles  of  France 
and  all  the  people  who  were  guillotined,  we 
shall  never  have  done,  sir,'  said  Godfrey. — 
'  Rosamond  was  only  to  choose  from  among 
the  historical  people,  whose  heads  are  here 
before  her.' 

'  Then  stay,  we  have  missed  Lady  Jane 
Gray,'  said  Rosamond,  turning  back  to  look 
at  some  portraits  she  had  before  passed  over. 

Lady  Jane  Gray  was  very  amiable,  and 
very  learned,  and  very  much  to  be  pitied. 
And  before  her  portrait  Rosamond  paused  ; 
then  turning  to  ask  Laura's  counsel,  she  saw 
her  fixed  before  another  picture. 

'  Lady  Russell  !'  exclaimed  Rosamond  eag- 
erly. '  Certainly,  Laura,  you  are  right ;  how 
could  I  forget  Lady  Russell? — forget  her  I 
never  did  ;  but  why  did  I  not  fix  upon  her 
sooner  V 

1  Better  after  comparison  than  before,'  said 
Laura. 

1  Who  can  be  compared  with  her  ?  Who  is 
there  in  our  own  country,  or  France,  or  Italy, 
or  Spain — in  any  country  ?  what  celebrated 
woman  can  you  name,  who  can  stand  a  com- 
parison with  Lady  Russell  ?'  said  Rosamond. 

Several  celebrated  modern  names,  French 
and  English,  were  mentioned,  but  none  could 
stand  a  comparison  with  Lady  Russell. 

As  Mrs.  Egerton  observed,  we  know  Lady 
Russell  not  merely  by  what  historians  or  biog- 


288  EARLY   LESSONS. 

raphcrs  say  in  her  praise,  but  we  become  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  her  from  her  own  let- 
ters. There  we  see  her  from  youth  to  age,  in 
prosperity  and  in  adversity  ;  we  see  her  begin- 
ning life,  as  if  she  were  only  a  common  person, 
happy  with  her  husband,  and  taking  care  of 
her  children  ;  we  see  how  grateful  she  was  to 
God  for  her  happiness — '  her  great  happiness,' 
as  she  emphatically  calls  it ;  we  see  how 
wisely,  in  prosperity,  she  prepared  her  mind 
for  adversity,  and,  when  it  came  upon  her, 
how  nobly  she  bore  it ;  what  presence  of  mind 
she  showed,  what  exertions  she  made,  on  the 
trial  of  her  husband  ;  and  as  to  tenderness, 
what  fortitude  in  suppressing  her  feelings  in 
the  last  parting,  that  she  might  spare  him 
pain  ! 

1  And  her  whole  life  afterwards,'  continued 
Mrs.  Egerton,  '  was  admirable.  Instead  of 
giving  herself  up  to  her  own  feelings,  she  ful- 
filled every  active  duty,  lived  for  her  chil- 
dren, her  husband  ever  present  to  her  mind.' 

c.O,  I  would  rather  have  been  the  noble 
widow  of  lord  Russell,'  exclaimed  Rosamond, 
'than  the  greatest  queen  upon  earth  !' 

'  Rosamond,'  cried  Godfrey,  suddenly  pla- 
cing himself  before  her,  '  which  would  you 
rather  have  been,  Lady  Russell,  or  Queen  E- 
lizabeth  in  all  her  glory?' 

'  Lady  Russell  without  a  doubt,'  replied 
Rosamond.  '  Queen  Elizabeth  !'  repeated  she 
with  a  look  of  disdain.  '  I  would  never  be 
Queen  Elizabeth,  with  all  her  glory,  as  you 


ROSAMOND.  289 

call  it.     It  was  the  glory  of  a   great   queen, 
but  not  of  a  good  woman.' 

'  Right,  my  dear  young  friend,'  said  Mrs. 
Egerton,  who  rejoiced  to  see  that  Rosamond 
was  not  dazzled  with  the  glare  of  historic 
greatness,  but  that  she  felt  the  full  value  of 
female  domestic  virtues.  She  rejoiced  too  in 
seeing  the  enthusiasm  which  Rosamond  felt 
for  Lady  Russell.  She  knew  that  the  look- 
ing up  in  early  youth  to  a  high  character  ex- 
alts the  mind,  and  gives  the  best  promise  of 
future  excellence. 


vol.  ii.    25 


290 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


THE  DEPARTURE. 


Much  did  the  view  divide  his  wavering  mind  : 
Now  glowed  his  breast  with  generous  thirst  of  fame  ; 
Now  love  of  ease  to  softer  thoughts  inclined 
His  yielding  soul,  and  quenched  the  rising  flame. 

These  lines  Godfrey  was  repeating  in  a 
loud  voice,  as  he  walked  one  morning  before 
breakfast,  up  and  down  the  gallery.  Rosa- 
mond, opening  the  door  of  her  room,  asked 
him  what  he  was  saying. 

1  The  choice  of  Hercules,'  replied  he.  { I  am 
learning  it  by  heart ;'  and  he  went  back, 


ROSAMOND.  291 

When  lo  !  far  off,  two  female  forms  he  spies  ; 
Direct  to  him  their  steps  they  seem  to  bear. 

1  Rosamond,  direct  your  steps  to  me.'  said 
Godfrey,  £  and  call  Laura.  She  shall  be  Vir- 
tue for  me,  and  you  shall  be  Sloth.' 

'  I  Sloth  !'  cried  Rosamond,  stopping  short, 
( indeed  I  never  will.' 

{  Well,  well  !  At  any  rate,  come  here  and 
help  me  to  shorten  the  long  speeches  in  this 
poem,  for  both  Sloth  and  Virtue  say  too  much 
for  me,'  said  Godfrey  ;  <at  least  too  much  for 
my  memory.  Leaving  out  half  will,  as  my 
father  says,  much  improve  the  whole.' 

1  But  pray  don't  leave  out  Virtue's  first 
speech"  said  Rosamond. 

'  And  certainly,'  said  Godfrey,  '  we  must 
not  leave  this  out  about  Honor.  Now  hear 
me  say  this.     I  am  perfect  in  this  stanza. 

Honor  rewards  the  brave  and  bold  alone  ; 
She  spurns  the  timorous,  indolent,  and  base  : 
Danger  and  toil  stand  stern  before  her  throne, 
And  guard,  so  Jove  commands,  the  sacred  place. 
Who  seeks  her  must  the  mighty  cost  sustain, 
And  pay  the  price  of  fame — labor,  and  care,  and  pain. 

In  these  lines  Godfrey  was  perfect,  and  Ro- 
samond and  he  had  just  settled  what  they 
would  leave  out,  when  they  were  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Dr.  Egerton,  who  came  in 
with  letters  in  his  hand  ;  his  countenance 
unusually  grave,  as  if  he  had  just  received 
some  bad  news. 

When  they  were  all  assembled  at  the  break- 
fast table,  he  told  them,  that   he  had  heard  a 


292  EARLY   LESSONS. 

sad  account  of  a  young  man,  for  whom,  inde- 
pently  of  relationship,  he  had  once  had  a  great 
regard  ;  who,  from  his  once  generous  spirit, 
and  early  display  of  talents,  had  promised  to 
be  an  honor  to  his  family,  and  a  distinguish- 
ed member  of  society ;  who,  as  his  fond  pa- 
rents flattered  themselves,  would  have  risen 
to  the  first  rank  in  political  eminence,  and  to 
the  highest  honors  of  the  state. 

Godfrey  and  Rosamond  looked  at  each 
other,  afraid  to  hear  the  name. 

'Yes,  Folliott  Brown!'  said  Dr.  Egerton 
sighing. 

There  was  a  silence,  for  no  one  ventured  to 
ask  any  questions,  and  Dr.  Egerton  seemed 
unwilling  to  say  more. 

'  I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  circumstances, 
my  young  friends,'  resumed  he  ;  '  but  he  has 
fallen  into  bad  company  abroad  ;  he  has  for- 
med, or  there  is  imminent  danger  of  his  form- 
ing, a  most  disgraceful  connexion ;  and  I  con- 
sider his  being  at  this  moment  under  arrest 
for  a  gaming  debt  at  Paris  as  the  least  part 
of  the  evil.' 

{  Folliott  Brown  !'  repeated  Godfrey.  '  We 
thought  him  the  finest  fellow  in  the  whole 
school  !  with  such  abilities  !  such  honor  !  such 
spirit  !  ' 

1  Ah  !'  said  Dr.  Egerton,  '  abilities,  spirit, 
honor,  will  not  do  without  something  more. 
What  are  they  without  religion,  morality  and 
steadiness  ]  It  must  aggravate  his  mother's 
affliction  to  know,  as  she  must,  that  this  ill 


ROSAMOND.  293 

conduct  arises  from  his  parents'  early  and 
late  neglect.  His  father  was  so  intent  upon 
bringing  forward  his  abilities,  that  he  abso- 
lutely seemed  to  forget  moral  and  religious 
principles  ;  provided  he  won  prizes,  and  ob- 
tained school  and  college  honors,  he  was  sat- 
isfied, without  ever  looking  for  more,  or  caring 
what  company  he  kept,  or  what  habits  he  ac- 
quired. In  fact,  the  very  means  he  took,  even 
to  excite  him  forward  in  classical  literature, 
while  yet  a  school-boy,  prepared  this  ruin 
that  has  ensued.  He  rewarded  him,  by  in- 
creasing his  allowance  of  money  to  an  exor- 
bitant degree.' 

'  That  is  true.  I  remember  he  used  to  have 
a  great  deal  of  money,'  said  Godfrey  ;  '  but  he 
was  in  the  upper  form  ;  I  did  not  know  more 
than  that  he  was  very  extravagant.' 

1  Colonel  Brown  used  to  say,'  continued  Dr. 
E.  '  that  he  thought  he  could  not  pay  too 
dear  for  his  son's  abilities.  Dearly  he  paid, 
and  dearly  has  his  son,  and  dearly  must  all 
his  family  pay  for  them.  At  the  university, 
in  spite  of  every  remonstrance  I  could  make, 
the  same  principles  were  followed  by  his  in- 
fatuated parents.  I  was  wild  in  my  time,  the 
father  always  said,  and  Folliott  must  have 
his  day  and  his  way  ;  he's  a  fine  fellow,  and 
will  take  up  when  we  get  him  into  parliament, 
and  he  will  make  a  figure  that  will  make  a- 
mends  for  any  little  extravagance.  His  mo- 
ther too,  Lady  Frances,  was  anxious  chiefly 
about  the  rank  and  fashion  of  the  young  men 


294  EARLY    LESSONS. 

who  were  his  companions.  If  he  was  in  high 
company,  she  always  thought  he  was  in  gooa 
company.  So  from  extravagance  he  went  on 
to  all  sorts  of  dissipation,  and  of  course  to 
worse  and  worse,  when  his  father's  death  left 
him  fatally  at  liberty.  The  disorder  of  their 
affairs,  the  loss  of  their  fortune,  made  an  im- 
pression just  for  a  time.  I  remember  he  then 
assured  me  that  he  was  resolved  to  be  pru- 
dent, and  he  felt  for  his  mother  and  sisters, 
and  he  was  anxious  to  distinguish  himself  in 
parliament,  and  to  set  all  to  rights.  And  he 
was  in  earnest,  and  felt  strongly  at  the  mo- 
ment ;  but  what  is  feeling,  what  are  good  im- 
pulses, without  principle  and  resolution  ! — 
Then  his  mother,  from  vanity,  put  him  again 
in  the  way  of  all  manner  of  temptation.  He 
must  needs  go  abroad  with  a  young  profli- 
gate nobleman  ;  and  his  mother,  by  way  of 
saving  money,  and  breaking  up  an  establish- 
ment, must  go  to  live  in  Paris  too,  with  vis- 
ions of  glory,  I  am  sure,  before  her  for  her 
daughters.  It  has  all  ended  as  you  see/  said 
Dr.  Egerton,  putting  the  letters  into  his  sis- 
ter's hand. 

Rosamond,  extremely  shocked,  sat  quite 
overpowered  with  surprise  ;  she  looked  alter- 
nately at  Godfrey,  Laura,  and  her  mother, 
without  uttering  a  syllable.  The  recollection 
of  the  time  she  had  seen  this  family,  when 
they  were  all  in  prosperity  and  gaiety,  and 
when  she  used  to  look  up  to  them  with  admi- 
ration, was  full  in  her  mind,  nor  could  she 


ROSAMOND.  295 

forget  the  manner  in  which  they  had  spoken 
of  those,  who  were  now,  in  their  adversity, 
their  only  friends. 

Dr.  Egerton  was  determined,  he  said,  to  set 
out  immediately  to  Paris,  to  try  what  could 
be  done,  not  merely  to  relieve  this  young  man 
from  his  present  difficulties,  but  to  snatch 
him  if  possible  from  future  destruction. 

Mrs.  Egerton,  ever  inclined  to  think  the 
best,  encouraged  her  brother  in  this  benevo- 
lent hope.  It  was  some  exertion,  at  his  ad- 
vanced time  of  life,  and  disliking  as  he  did, 
to  leave  his  beloved  home  to  go  to  a  foreign 
country  ;  but  all  these  were  trifles  to  him 
with  such  an  object  before  him.  He  also  re- 
gretted that  he  must  abruptly  leave  friends, 
whose  company  he  so  much  enjoyed  ;  and 
all  deplored,  that  such  must  be  the  melancho- 
ly termination  of  their  hitherto  delightful  visit 
to  Egerton  Abbey. 

Dr.  Egerton  was  to  set  off  early  the  next 
morning  for  France,  and  Mrs.  Egerton  was 
to  go  to  her  own  house  to  prepare  every 
thing  for  the  reception  of  Lady  Frances  Fol- 
liott  Brown  and  her  daughters,  whom  she  in- 
vited to  make  it  their  residence  on  this  their 
sudden  return  from  the  continent,  they  hav- 
ing now  no  house  nor  home  of  their  own. 

Arrangements  for  their  various  journies,  and 
the  necessary  preparations  for  departure,  were 
now  to  begin,  and  were  necessarily  to  occu- 
py almost  the  whole  of  this  last  day.  As 
soon  as  they  had  breakfasted,    or,  to  speak 


296  EARLY    LESSONS. 

more  correctly,  as  soon  as  they  rose  from  the 
breakfast  table,  Laura  and  Rosamond,  think- 
ing that  Dr.  Egerton  might  wish  to  speak 
further  on  the  subject  of  these  unhappy  af- 
fairs to  their  father  and  mother,  retired  to 
their  own  room.  Godfrey  soon  followed.  He 
found  Rosamond  sitting  upon  the  trunk 
which  Laura  was  preparing  to  pack,  both 
quite  silent,  and  Rosamond  looking  more  se- 
rious than  he  had  ever  seen  her. 

1  Rosamond,'  said  he,  '  do  you  recollect  the 
words  we  heard  Folliott  Brown  say,  the  last 
evening  we  ever  saw  him, 

Crabbed  age  and  youth  cannot  live  together  V 

1  Remember  it  !  Yes,'  said  Rosamond. 
1  When  you  came  in,  I  was  just  thinking  of 
that  ball,  and  of  all  that  has  passed  since,  and 
I  shall  never  forget  it.  My  dear  brother,' 
continued  she,  '  how  happy  it  is  for  you,  that 
your  friendship  for  Folliott  Brown  was  bro- 
ken off  !' 

'  That  intimacy  rather  ;  for  friendship,  I 
am  sure,  there  never  was  on  his  side,'  said 
Laura. 

'  But  there  was  on  mine,'  said  Godfrey, 
1  and  I  am  excessively  sorry  for  all  that  has 
happened.  My  father  warned  me  from  him, 
you  remember,  and  told  me,  what  I  never 
suspected,  that  he  was  without  principle.  I 
am  glad  that  I  trusted  my  father's  judgment, 
and  took  his  advice.' 


ROSAMOND.  297 

{  How  much  reason,'  said  Rosamond,  '  we 
have  to  be  grateful  to  our  parents,  Godfrey, 
for  giving  us  strong  moral  principles,  with  a 
steady  foundation  of  religion  ;  and  for  ma- 
king us  really  good  friends,  instead  of  what 
are  called  great  friends.' 

'  Very  true,'  said  Godfrey.  '  But  who  would 
have  expected  such  a  really  wise  and  really 
good  reflection,  at  last,  from  Rosamond  V 

1  Every  body  who  knows  her  as  well  as  I 
do,'  said  Laura. 

1  Well,'  said  Godfrey,  '  I  could  tell  you, 
and  I  could  tell  Rosamond  something.' 

'  Pray  tell  me,  brother  ;  you  must,'  said 
Rosamond,  holding  him  fast. 

'  Then  if  I  must,  I  will  tell  you,  that  there 
is  nobody  living,  not  even  yourself,  my  dear 
Laura,  who  has  higher  expectations  of  Rosa- 
mond's sense  and  goodness  than  I  have,  though 
I  agree,  I  own,  with  old  lady  Worral,  that 
miss  Rosamond's  education  has  been  going 
on  a  great  while,  and  that  it  begins  to  be  time 
to  think  of  finishing  it.  The  day  after  we 
go  home,  she  will  arrive,  with  her  old  ques- 
tion, Ma'am,  when  will  miss  Rosamond's  ed- 
ucation be  finished  V 

1  And  you,  I  hope,  will  answer,'  said  Ro- 
samond, '  Never,  while  she  lives.' 

THE    END. 


PICTURE  BOOKS  published  by  MUNROE  &  FRANCIS, 

The  Boy's  Own  Book ; 

A  complete  Encyclopedia  of  all  the  Diversions,  athletic,  sci- 
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The  Boy's  Own  Book  Extended  ; 

Comprehending  in  one  thick  volume,  the  '  Boy's  Own  Book,' 
1  Parlour  Magic,'  and  'Preston's  Gymnastics.'  f^*  These 
three  Books  united  form  a  complete  library  of  recreative  and 
innocent  amusement,  and  will  yield  to  the  hours  devoted  to 
relaxation  all  the  information  needed  to  make  them  pass  a- 
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♦— 


The  Little  Grammarian ; 


Or  an  easy  Guide  to  the  Parts  of  Speech  :  designed  for  young 
persons,  but  more  particularly  adapted  to  facilitate  instruction 
in  preparatory  schools.  With  wood  cuts.  §£fp  We  recom- 
mend this  little  book  to  all  schoolmistresses  who  have  a  wish 
to  give  their  little  pupils  a  taste  for  acquiring  the  names  and 
purposes  of  the  different  parts  of  speech  ;  with  this  book  it 
will  be  an  amusement  rather  than  a  task,  besides  relating  by 
it  many  pretty  stories. 

♦ 

The  Hieroglyphic  Bible; 

A  Book  of  106  ornamented  pages,  and  having  more  than  400 
wood  cuts,  affording  endless  amusement  for  little  children  to 
find  out  the  names  and  meaning  of  each  cut.  A  key  is  annex- 
ed to  each  page. 

♦— 

The  Boy's  Story  Book  ;  or,  the  History  of 

Edward  and  his  Friends,  and  their  remarkable  doings,  during 
one  vacation. 


PICTURE  BOOKS  published  by  MUNROE  &  FRANCIS. 

The  Casket  of  Gems ;  the  Gift  of  an  Uncle 

and  Aunt.         gj"  This  is  a  book  suited  to  all  times  and  sea- 
sons, for  all  classes  of  youth,  and  for  both  sexes. 


Peter  Parley's  Bible  Stories, 

Selected  from  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  and  the  most  in- 
teresting narratives  ;  such  as  will  give  the  young  reader  a  rel- 
ish to  inquire  further  into  the  sacred  volume. 
« 

The  Swiss  Family  Robinson. 

Next  to  Old  Robinson  Crusoe,  we  recommend  the  Adventures 
which  hefel  this  Swiss  Family,  who  were  shipwrecked  on  a 
desert  island,  and  who  contrived  to  make  themselves,  after  a 
while,  tolerahle  comfortable. 

The  Evergreen :  Stories  by  Walter  West 

These  Stories  have  been  circulated  extensively  ;  edition  after 
edition  having  been  sold,  which  proves  their  excellence. 


Little  Henri ;   or.  The  Gipsy's  Theft.    A 

Bohemian  Tale.  [A  beautiful  anrl  pathetic  historical  story,  translated 
from  the  French  of  F.  C.  Lambert.] 

Midsummer  Tales ;  or  The  Little  Quixotes, 

—The  Old  Cloak,— The  Island  of  Happy  Children,— The  Stolen  Ass, 
— and  other  Stories.  [Translated  from  the  French  of  Madame 
Lafaye,  author  of  several  popular  works  for  the  joung.]  With  mam 
wood  engravings. 

Multiplication  Matched ;  an  ingenious  set  of 

dissected  Cards,  or  a  Game  for  the  Young,  in  Verse,  by  which  the 
Multiplication  Table  is  mastered  in  amusement  or  sport.  With  coV 
oured  engravings,  and  inclosed  in  a  neat  case. 


Stories  of  Old  Daniel.   The  Storm  ;  the  Veir 

triloquist  ;  My  Lord    Snowdrop;    The  Unlucky  Travellers  :    The  De- 
serter ;  The  Blind  Man  ;    Old  Daniel's   Own  Story  ;    The  Murderer  ; 

The  Mistake      With  engravings. 


PICTURE  HUOKS  published  by  MUNROE  &  FRANCIS. 


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And  Readings  attached.  Consisting  of  the  following  Fables, 
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Little  Boy  and  the  Lizard  ;  Monkey  and  Lapdog  ;  Proud  Pea- 
cock ;  Velvet  and  Busy  ;  Three  Hedgehogs  ;  Danger  of  Keep- 
ing Bad  Company  ;  Learned  Pig  ;  Ape  and  the  Ass  ;  Proud 
Young  Frog  ;  Grateful  Crane  ;  King  of  the  Fen  ;  Covetous 
Boy  ;  Peacock  and  his  Fellow  Travellers  ;  Young  Stag ;  Shet- 
land Pony  ;  Rook  and  Pitcher  ;  Madge  the  Owl ;  Faithful  Dog. 


Marmaduke  Multiply, 


Or  the  Multiplication  Table  in  Picture  and  Verse. 
This  little  book  will  impress  on  the  young  mind  the  recollection 
of  the  multiplication  of  figures,  serving  as  a  book  of  amuse- 
ment as  well  as  of  instruction. 


Parlour  Magic,  dedicated  to  the  Lovers  of 

Home,  being  a  little  Manual  of  amusing  phenomena  for  fam- 
ily recreation.  The  Contents  are  too  numerous  to  be  detail- 
ed in  an  advertisement  ;  but  there  are  forty-five  different 
Transmutations  ;  sixty-eight  different  experiments  of  Sight 
and  Sound  ;  fifty-six  amusements  in  Light  and  Heat  ;  forty 
different  experiments  with  Gas  and  Steam  ;  eighty  with  air 
and  water  ;  forty  amusing  sleights  and  subtelties  ;  fortyeight 
miscellaneous  experiments,  &c.  fj=  The  boy,  whose  won- 
der has  been  excited  by  the  scientific  lecturer,  or  the  illusions 
of  the  Ventriloquist,  will  here  find  many  of  these  mysteries 
unveiled,  and  plain  directions  for  performing  them,  devested 
of  scientific  language.  Many  of  the  descriptions  are  original, 
and  now  for  the  first  time  appear  in  print,  and  especial  care 
has  been  taken  to  introduce  only  such  experiments  as  are  a- 
dapted  for  performance  at  the  parlour  or  drawingroom  table 
or  fireside,  and  such  as  are  practicable  without  expensive  me- 
chanical or  chemical  apparatus,  and  require  no  implements  be- 
yond those  which  any  ingenious  youth  may  readily  make  him- 
self or  furnish  at  a  very  trifling  expense. 


Robin  Hood  and  his  Merry  Foresters, 

By  Stephen  Percy.     With  nine  spirited  Engravings.     Being  a 
History  of  the  Life  of  this  famous  Outlaw. 

'  Merry  it  is,  in  the  good  green  wood, 
When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing.' 


PICTURE  BOOKS  published  by  MUNROE  &  FRANCIS. 

Berquin's  Children's  Friend,  2  volumes, 

M.  &  P.  have  published,  in  two  neat  thick  vols,  the  dramatic 
stories  of  the  celebrated  Berquin,  each  with  an  engraving,  and 
revised  throughout,  making  a  most  interesting  little  collection 
of  dramas  for  juvenile  reading  and  schools.  The  contents  are — 
The  Little  Brother:  A  good  heart  compensates  for  many  In- 
discretions :  The  Three  Cakes  :  The  Deserter  :  Blind  Man's 
Buff:  The  conjuring  Bird  :  The  little  Fiddler  :  Vanity  pun- 
ished :  The  School  for  Stepmothers  :  The  Affectionate  Moth- 
er :  The  Sword  :  The  little  Gleaner  :  Fathers  reconciled  by 
their  Children  :  The  Hobgoblin  :  The  Young  Gamblers  :  The 
Fire  by  Night:  The  Good  Son  :  Fashionable  Education:  The 
Christmas  Box  :  The  Greyhound  and  the  Ring  :  The  Page, 
&c.  &c.     In  all,  thirty  stories. 


Robinson  Crusoe,  the  entire  Work  in  1  vol. 

This  edition  comprises  the  whole  Life  of  Robinson  Crusoe, 
and  of  course  his  adventures  after  he  left  his  desert  island. 

Tales  of  Illustrious  Children  ; 

By  Agnes  Strickland.  §~jT  This  lady's  name  to  any  book 
is  recommendation  sufficient  of  its  worth  ;  we  therefore  only 
give  the  names  of  the  contents,  whose  relation  is  historically 
true  ;  namely,  Guthred,  the  widow's  slave  :  The  Royal  Bro- 
thers, or  the  two  princes  murdered  by  Richard  3d  :  Prince  Ed- 
ward and  his  wicked  stepmother  Elfrida  :  The  Sons  of  the 
Conqueror  :  The  Boy  Bachelor,  or  the  youth  of  VVolsey  :  The 
Judgment  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  or  Dorothy  Collie's  Dog:  Lit- 
tle lady  Lucy's  Petition  for  the  life  of  her  father. 

Tales  of  the  Saxons,  by  Emily  Taylor. 

This  work  is  intended  to  present  to  children  a  picture  of  do- 
mestic life  in  England  in  old  Saxon  times,  in  three  very  inter- 
esting stories.  Haco  the  Good  :  Hereward  the  Saxon  :  Edith 
the  Forester's  Daughter. 


PICTURE  BOOKS  published  by  MTTNROE  &  FRANCIS. 

fhrLMrChiid^Bo^ 

Or  Spelling  and  Reading  illustrated  by  Emblematic  Figures, 
A  new  and  improved  edition.     More  than  500  Engravings. 

The  design  of  the  Little  Child's  Book  (approved  by  the  sale  of 
several  large  editions)  is  to  give  young  children  a  series  oi 
pictures  with  short  definitions,  for  their  amusement  and  in- 
struction, until  they  are  capable  of  more  extensive  reading.  In 
square  16mo. 

The  same  work  is  likewise  published  in  Four  separate  books, 
with  appropriate  titles,  &c.  to  each. 


The  Child's  Own  Book,      020  Pages. 

With  upwards  of  Two  Hundred  Engravings. 

The  contents  of  this  book  were  selected  by  a  Lady  in  reference 
to  strict  moral  as  well  as  amusing  reading  ;  and  the  Tales  have 
all  their  original  beauty  unimpaired  ;  nothing  changed  except 
any  vulgar  or  improper  expression,  unfit  for  the  juvenile  read- 
er.    The  Contents  are — 

Aladdin  ;  Ali  Baba  ;  Beauty  and  the  Beast ;  Blanch  and  Rosa- 
linda ;  Blue  Beard  ;  Children  in  the  wood  ;  Cinderella  ;  Dis- 
creet Princess  ;  Diamonds  and  Toads ;  Fatal  and  Fortune ; 
Fortunatus  ;  Fortunio  ;  Fisherman  and  Genii  ;  Golden  Locks  ; 
Goody  Twoshoes  ;  Griselda  ;  Graciosa  ;  Gulliver's  Travels  ; 
Hop  o'my  Thumb  ;  Little  Jack  ;  King  Pippin  ;  The  Giant  Kil- 
ler ;  Jack  and  the  Bean  Stalk  ;  Invisible  Prince  ;  Little  Hunch- 
back ;  Red  Riding  Hood  ;  La  Perouse  ;  Royal  Ram  ;  Nourja- 
had  ;  Puss  in  Boots  ;  Philip  Quart  ;  Peronella  ;  Lee  Boo  ;  Ri- 
quet  with  the  Tuft ;  Robin  Hood  ;  Crusoe  ;  Seven  Champions  ; 
Three  Wishes  ;  Tom  Thumb  ;  Valentine  and  Orson  ;  White 
Cat ;  Whittington  and  his  Cat ;  Yellow  Dwarf. 


Robert  Ramble's  Country  and  City  Scenes. 

Robert  takes  his  young  friend  by  the  hand,  and  carries  him  at 
first  through  the  Country  Town  and  then  through  the  City, 
showing  him  all  the  useful  sights  worth  seeing,  and  relating 
the  Anecdotes  connected  with  them. 


Mrs,  Hofland's  Farewell  Tales, 

There  are  very  few 
pleasant  writings  oi 
universally  admired 


There  are  very  few  persons  who  are  unacquainted  with  the 
pleasant  writings  of  Mrs.  H.     Her  stories  ibr  the  young  are 


PICTURE  BOOKS  published  by  MUNROE  &  FRANCIS. 

The  American  Girl's  Book  ; 

Or,  Occupation  for  Play  Hours.  By  Eliza  Leslie. 
w  The  sports  of  children  satisfy  the  child."  Golds. 
This  Book  contains  a  fund  of  entertainment  for  Girls,  when 
in  quest  of  recreation.  Here  are  sixty-two  different  Sports 
and  Pastimes  ;  eight  Plays  with  Toys  ;  sixteen  little  Games 
with  Cards  ;  Four  hundred  Riddles,  Charades,  Enigmas,  Re- 
busses  and  Conundrums.  How  to  make  seventeen  different 
kinds  of  Pincushions  ;  seven  different  Needlebooks  ;  twelve 
different  Reticules.  Dolls,  Lampstands,  Penwipers,  Book- 
marks, Matchboxes,  &c.  All  illustrated  with  wood  cuts,  de- 
signed and  drawn  by  the  author. 

Original  Poems  for  Infant  Minds. 

By  Jane  Taylor  and  her  sisters.    In  one  volume,  with  numer- 
ous engravings. 


Rhymes  for  the  Nursery; 

By  Jane  Taylor  and  her  Sisters,  authors  of  that  very  pop- 
ular book,  "  Original  Poems  for  Infant  Minds."  Containing 
One  hundred  and  two  different  little  poems,  and  Seventy-two 
Cuts.  Being  a  complete,  and  the  only  complete  collection  of 
"  Rhymes  for  the  Nursery,  Munroe  and  Francis'  Edition  '' 

Paul  Preston's  GYMNASTICS ; 

Or,  Book  of  Active  Sports  for  Youth.  A  Legacy  to  promote 
the  Health  and  long  Life  of  his  youthful  friends,  fjj-  A  few 
words  to  Guardians  of  youth,  where  numbers  of  children  are 
congregated  together,  will  not  be  amiss.  There  is  not  a  sin- 
gle exercise  in  this  book  that  can  really  be  called  dangerous. 
Many  enlightened  instructers  of  youth  have  often  wished  for 
some  Manual  of  Gymnastics  to  direct  them  ;  and  for  want  of 
it,  have  chosen  rather  not  to  attempt  them  at  all,  than  not  do 
them  well.  |jjf  Here  then  is  a  book  to  their  hands,  and  tho' 
written  expressly  for  boys,  the  exercises  are  so  philosophically 
laid  down,  as  to  "progress  from  the  easiest  to  the  most  difficult, 
forming  a  complete  code  to  guide  the  teacher. 


The  Evergreen:  Stories  by  Walter  West 

These  Stories  have  been  circulated  extensively  ;  edition  aftei 
edition  having  been  sold,  which  proves  their  excellence. 


